Of Nobles and Bastards
by Rosie84
Summary: A nobleman's daughter with a shady past and a bastard with royal blood – the only surviving Grey Wardens after the Battle of Ostagar. Together they must overcome many obstacles in their quest to save Ferelden from a Blight. But, who will save them from themselves? Will they find the happiness they seek, or will duty and honour keep them apart?
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, it's a new year and with that comes new resolutions. So I'm going to bite the bullet and post this first chapter of a story that I have been playing around with for a while. I've never done anything like this before, but due to the persistent urging of my husband and family, I have caved and so here it is. This is an experiment to see what people think of my writing, because I would really like to try my hand at actually publishing something. Here goes nothing...**

* * *

The world would not stop spinning. She could not get the images of her loved ones out of her mind. Dead, all of them.

Everything she held dear and close to her heart had been ripped away in a single night. The treachery of Arl Howe tasted bitter in her mouth as she stared into the hypnotic flames of the campfire. She would not cry; she could not cry if she wanted to. She felt dead, an empty husk bled of all feeling and emotion. She should have stayed and died with her parents. She should have defended them until she had no more fight left in her body, until she took her last breath and her heart beat its last beat; she should have stayed with them. It was Duncan the Grey Warden that made her leave. He had made a promise to her father to keep her safe if she became a Grey Warden. Her father had been lying on the larder's floor; his life's blood pooling under him and staining the flagstones crimson. Her father had made her promise to go with this Duncan of the Grey Wardens and so she did. She left her mother to defend her father like she should have done.

Darcy Cousland was for all intensive purposes the last scion of the noble house of Cousland. Her father was Teyrn of Highever and head of one of the most important households in Fereldan; second only to King Cailan. Her father had been at the head of the armies against the Orlesian invasion; fighting side by side with King Marick Therin, Arl Redon Howe and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir.

Darcy did not grow up as other noble daughters did. From the moment she could hold a sword, her father had allowed her to train alongside her brother and her father's ward Ser Roland Gilmore. Her small frame however was not suited to the heavy armour, sword and shield that the knights favoured, but instead, she showed immense skill and aptitude for the bow and dual weaponry of rogues. She had also, to her mother's dismay, picked up some of the less noble rogue skills from the rogues in her father's army. Darcy could pick a lock in under a minute and was quite adept at picking pockets if the fancy so struck her. Not that the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland ever needed to pick a pocket.

It was her prowess with her swords and bow on the field that had earned her the title of Teyrn Cousland's Little Spitfire. She had once overheard a peasant call her Highever's Jewel, but she had laughed at the ridiculous notion; she much preferred being a spitfire! Alas, her reputation as a spitfire, was also the reason why she, at 18 was still unmarried; a fact that her mother and sister-in-law had despaired over on many occasions.

"Are you cold?"

"What?"

Startled she looked up into the hazel eyes of Alistair, the young Grey Warden she had met earlier that day. Duncan had asked her to find him after they had arrived at Ostagar where King Cailan's armies gathered to fight the Darkspawn hoard.

She looked down at her arms that were wrapped tightly around herself. She was not cold, but had wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to hold herself together against the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. She was afraid that if she let go, she would not be able to pick herself back up again.

"Are you cold?"

Alistair smiled; his eyes twinkling with mischief. Had she not needed to make such an effort to control her emotions she might have enjoyed the company of this Alistair. He was funny and made silly jokes that only he found funny, like Fergus...

She took a shaky breath to steady herself and attempted to give Alistair a smile.

"I – not really, I was just thinking. Thank you for asking though."

"Well, I managed to scrounge an extra blanket from the soldiers' camp; you are welcome to have it if you want to."

She smiled at him trying to convey her thanks with her eyes as she tries very hard to swallow past the lump that refused to shift in her throat. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

"Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate the gesture. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer later."

"As you wish."

He turns to go, but then decides against it and returns to sit next to her again. She cocks an eyebrow at him; waiting for an explanation.

"Fine, I confess. I took more than just a blanket."

Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"What did you take?"

He sighed dramatically and looked over his shoulder as if to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Then he whispered conspiringly.

"Well, I went to the soldiers' camp to pilfer this extra blanket and then I saw this amazingly huge wedge of cheese just sitting there on a crate next to a lovely loaf of black bread and I just couldn't resist."

"Um..."

"I mean it was like the clouds parted and a beam of sunlight lit on that cheese like it was holy or something. I just had to have it."

"Right –"

"So I guess I was hoping you would help me get rid of the evidence?"

His voice sounded so hopeful that she couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was the first time since that horrible night and it felt good.

"Well I suppose I could help my soon to be fellow warden out of a tight spot. You're very lucky you know. I happen to like cheese."

She smiled for the first time without effort and some little spark of her old self ignited within her.

"Excellent!"

Alistair gave her the biggest grin she had ever seen and proceeded to take out the said 'evidence' and placing it between them. There was a lot of cheese. Darcy hoped he didn't expect her to eat _that_ much. She had never been one to eat a lot and usually just nibbled on her food.

"That's a lot of cheese, Alistair."

"What this? Oh no, this is only a light snack."

Alistair laughed heartily at the utter look of horror on her face.

"It's a Grey warden thing. Our bodies burn calories a lot faster than the average person and add on top of that all the walking, running and fighting Darkspawn; you're pretty much feeling starved most of the time. You'll find out soon enough though."

"Maker, I hope not." Darcy shuddered at the thought of consuming so much food.

"So, are you ready to head in to the Wilds with me and the other two recruits tomorrow?"

Darcy nodded whilst nibbling on a bit of cheese.

"Have you ever fought and killed a Darkspawn before?"

"No, I have not, but I have heard many descriptions of them from others."

Alistair's eyebrows knitted together in worry for a moment, but Darcy had seen it and allowed herself a secret smile. People always underestimated her. Her small stature and youth, paired with two large grey eyes that shimmered like quicksilver, gave her an innocent and almost childlike appearance that belied her deathly skill and training. It was through her brother Fergus' Antivan wife Oriana that she had met Horacio Jimenez – better known as El Cuervo – _The Raven. _

Although Fergus' marriage to Oriana had been a love match and had nothing to do with political standing and gain; the fact that her father was the Guild-master of the infamous Crows – a guild of assassins – was not unwelcome. It was at Fergus' wedding six years ago that Horacio had first seen Darcy fight. She had been only twelve at the time and she had bested many of her father's trained and seasoned knights in the training arena. Horacio had immediately offered her a place as his apprentice and after much begging, pleading, and cajoling her father had relented and she had accompanied Horacio back to Antiva for the following three years.

"The first time I saw a Darkspawn, I nearly ran." Alistair broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them while they ate.

"But you didn't."

"No, I didn't. I readied my sword and shield and ran at it; screaming like a girl and hacked of his head before it could even grunt, but I have never been so scared in my entire life."

"And after that; were you less scared the second time?"

"No, I was still scared, but at least I knew what to expect. They are truly things of nightmares."

Darcy nodded and tore a small chunk of bread from the loaf and nibbled at it.

Alistair studied her from the corner of his eye. She sat staring into the fire; absentmindedly scratching the giant head of the biggest Mabari he had ever seen lying next to her. Truly, he knew that Mabari's were trained warrior dogs, but this one seemed to be twice the size of a normal Mabari. Alistair turned his attention to Darcy once more. She was so small; hardly came up to his chest. Her hair was a dark red; her skin pale but sun-kissed and a cluster of small freckles ran across a refined nose. She had the largest eyes he had ever seen and they shimmered like silver; he had never seen anyone with eyes quite like that. A generous mouth with full lips completed the picture. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for her womanly curves that lay under her well fitted leather armour, she could easily have passed for a girl much younger. Alistair blushed at the thought of her womanly curves and thanked the Maker that she was not looking at him at that precise moment. Why had Duncan chosen her to become a Warden? The Wardens were chosen for their skill with weapons, their keenness of mind and inner strength. Not that Alistair did not think she possessed any of these traits, but there was a reason the Grey Warden Joining was a well-kept secret. He would have to speak to Duncan later before they left for the Wilds in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to all those who have viewed and read the first chapter - Rosie**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

Duncan was sitting by the fire drinking from a steaming cup when Alistair found him later. In the six months that Alistair had been a warden, he had come to greatly respect Duncan and looked up to him as the father he never had. For the first time in his life he felt as he belonged somewhere. Yes, they had to fight and kill Darkspawn and yes, his blood was now tainted which meant he only had about thirty years to live, but Alistair didn't care; he had finally found his family.

"Duncan," Alistair called as he neared the campfire.

"Alistair, how are you, please join me. Would you like a mug of tea? It's just freshly brewed."

Alistair nodded and Duncan went in search for another mug to pour his tea in. Handing Alistair his own steaming mug, Duncan sat back down and took a long sip; savouring the feel as the hot tea warmed his body and relaxed his muscles. There just wasn't anything better than a good cup of tea.

"What can I do for you Alistair?"

Alistair shifted uncomfortably, not knowing how to start this conversation. He had not once questioned the Commander of the Grey about his decisions so far, but this time he had to question the reasoning behind recruiting Darcy.

"The new recruit is –"

"Darcy, is she alright? Has something happened?" Duncan looked worried and a deep frown pulled his dark eyebrows together.

Alistair was surprised at Duncan's reaction. Clearly there was more going on here than he thought.

"Darcy is fine, albeit a little on the quiet side."

Duncan seemed to relax visibly, "Good, that is good. So what seems to be the problem?"

Alistair took a deep breath before answering.

"Are you sure about her, Duncan? I mean she is so tiny and small and like a little girl lost. Do you truly believe that she would even pass the Joining ceremony?"

Duncan gave a half-smile, but did not answer straight away; instead taking another sip from his mug.

"Do not let her looks deceive you, Alistair. She is not as innocent as she seems; her prowess with the bow and blades are quite well known. As for looking like a little girl lost, well, that is not my story to tell. Just know that she has been through a deeply traumatising event and it will take her some time to work through it, if she ever does."

Alistair frowned. He knew that most of the Grey wardens had dark pasts and quite a few of them were conscripted into the Grey Wardens just as they made their way to the gallows to hang for their crimes, but he could not bring himself to think that Darcy was a convicted criminal. Duncan could see the young man was conflicted, so he patted him on the back and gave him some advice.

"Look, Darcy has nowhere else to go. The Grey Wardens are her home now, just as much as they are yours. She could use a friend."

Alistair nodded; he still felt unsettled about thinking of Darcy having to face a Darkspawn, but there was nothing for it and into the Kocari Wilds they must go, so Alistair bid Duncan goodnight and went to find his pallet.

* * *

"Hey, did you guys see the newest recruit Duncan brought back from his travels?" Daveth gave a lewd grin towards said recruit's tent.

He was sitting around the fire with Jory, another recruit from Redcliffe and a few other Grey Wardens. He had hoped see her tonight, but she had retired to her tent before he had the chance.

"Oi, Daveth, give the rest of us a chance. You've only been here a month and already your escapades among the women in the camp are legendary."

"Yeah, you're putting the rest of us to shame, and you're only a Grey Warden recruit!"

Daveth laughed and continued to sharpen his dagger on the whetstone he held on his lap.

"Well, Mugs, I'm sure it has nothing to do with your ugly mug."

The Grey Warden named Mugney grinned and chucked the chicken bone he had been sucking on at Daveth's head. Daveth moved his head slightly to the left and the chicken bone sailed over his shoulder to land harmlessly in the dirt behind him.

"Your mug's no less ugly than mine, you bastard."

"Tut, tut, Mugs, I'm an orphan not a bastard, there's a difference. And as to my mug, it's far more handsome than yours. Besides, you have the charm of an ogre, women like to be flattered and have sweet nothings whispered into their ears." He waggled his eyebrows for suggestive effect.

"I bet I can get her out of those tight leathers before you can," Skynner said; eyes glinting at the thought.

"Alright, challenge accepted. How much do you want to bet?" Daveth said accepting the challenge.

Skynner dug in his pack and pulled out a handful of silvers, "Ten silvers, says I'll get to her first."

Mugney gave a snort and dismissed Skynner with a wave of his hand. "That's not even a real bet, you fool. I bet you thirty silver that I'll get her in the sack with me before either of you."

Jory laughed silently at the men, the idiots had no idea what they were talking about. He must have laughed louder than he thought, because he suddenly found himself at the centre of attention, all eyes turned on him.

"You think you can do better, Jory?" Daveth asked.

Jory shook his head and scowled, "I don't need to try, I have a wife with a baby on the way at home."

The other men laughed.

"That means nothing, we're soldiers at war, what the missus at home doesn't know won't hurt her." Mugney winked at Jory and they all laughed again. Jory remained silent.

"So, why were you laughing then?" Daveth asked, curious now to find out why Jory had looked at them like they were all simpletons.

"I know that none of you stand a chance with her that is all."

"Oh, and how do you know this?" Skynner joined in.

Jory looked at the three men, taking his time to answer their question.

"I know who she is."

A moment's silence stretched before them before Mugney's curiosity got the better of him.

"Come on then, tell us who she is and stop keeping us in suspense."

"You really don't know who she is, do you?" Jory said grinning.

"Maker's hairy ball-sack, just tell us already."

"Have you ever heard of Highever's Jewel?"

Daveth frowned. He had overheard someone say something about a Highever jewel before.

"Yeah, I've heard of the Highever jewel, but I've always thought it was an actual jewel. In fact, I've entertained thoughts of going to Highever to see if I could steal it."

Jory smirked and shook his head, "Should have known that you would think it an actual jewel, thief."

Skynner laughed out loud, "Daveth, you crack me up. Seriously Jory, there is no way that that is Highever's Jewel. You think that Teyrn Cousland would give up his only daughter to become a Grey Warden?"

"Yeah, Jory, there's no way that Teyrn Cousland would give up his daughter," Mugney retorted indignantly.

"I can assure you that the new recruit is indeed Darcy Cousland. I have met her before and my wife was the head seamstress for the Cousland family before we were wed. I know what she looks like." Jory said sagely.

"I still can't quite believe it. Why would the Teyrn give up his only daughter to the Grey Wardens? She would be a handsome prize for any noble." Mugney shook his head in disbelief.

Jory nodded his agreement, "Indeed, but it is my understanding that she refused any offers made for her hand in marriage. The Couslands have a long history of duty to Ferelden, so perhaps she sees it as her duty."

If Daveth's grin could be any wider than it already was, then it was at this moment. "This is brilliant; it makes the challenge so much more fun." He rubbed his hands together in glee.

"I would be careful if I were you," Jory warned, "she is also known as Cousland's Little Spitfire. Don't think she will make it easy on you."

"Oh really?" Daveth quirked a black eyebrow at Jory.

Jory allowed himself to grin knowingly at Daveth. This was going to be fun. He had every notion that Daveth was about to meet his comeuppance in Darcy Cousland. The cocksure lout needed to learn a good lesson or two.

"Really. Those swords she carries on her back are not toys and I've seen her yield them against many of her father's soldiers on the practice field. And her archery skills would put even the King's Royal Archers to shame."

Daveth just grinned and rubbed his hands together, "Oh this is going to be so much fun!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

The Kochari Wilds was beyond anything the three new recruits could have imagined. The Darkspawn taint had seeped into the land and everything was withering and dying. There was a foul stench in the air that made Darcy want to lose what little breakfast she had that morning before they had left the safety of the Ostagar ruins. Carcases of dead things littered the ground and blood stained the sand red. The river also had a stagnant feel to it and Darcy hoped that she did not run out of water before they returned to camp. She did not wish to fill her drinking flask with water from this river.

They had not walked but an hour when Darcy spotted movement ahead of them. It was only a miniscule movement and the three men that accompanied her had not seen it. She kept her eyes riveted to the spot to see if she could spot the movement again. There it was; definite movement. There were bodies of soldiers strewn around the area and Darcy's heart threatened to escape via her throat. Fergus was in one of the scouting parties that had been sent out into the wilds. It had been her only consolation; that Fergus had not been at Castle Cousland when Rendon Howe betrayed his best friend and killed her family. She prayed fervently that she would not see the face of her brother on one of the bodies that they passed. She spied the movement again and stopped her companions from walking further. Up to now, they had not encountered anything but a pack of deranged wolves, but Darcy knew that the silence that surrounded them in the Wilds was unnatural; like the land was holding its breath waiting for something to happen.

"What's wrong?" Alistair whispered beside her.

She pointed to where she had seen the movement ahead of them.

"There is movement ahead of us, I suggest we move cautiously."

Alistair nodded, but knew that it was not Darkspawn. The taint in his blood was quiet.

Slowly they crept forwards passing the carcass of a dead ox and an overturned merchant's cart. Flies buzzed around its bloated stomach and maggots writhed and wriggled within that made the skin of the carcass move and ripple.

"Maker's breath, that is disgusting," Daveth complained.

Darcy did not say a word. To do so would mean to rid herself of her stomach contents. A man, lying half buried under the bodies of his fellow soldiers, cried out weakly for help and tried to move towards the small group.

"Please, help," the man cried stretching his hand out towards Darcy.

Darcy took his hand whilst Alistair, Jory and Daveth moved the dead bodies from on top of him.

"Do not worry, we are here to help. Tell me your name, soldier," Darcy said soothingly as she stroked the man's hand.

"It...it's Dolph. Please, please, I need some water." The last body was moved away and Darcy had to suppress the shivers of revulsion that threatened to overtake her body. The man's abdomen was near cleaved in half and his innards spilled out of the large gash, glistening and wet in the sun. How the man was still alive, Darcy did not know. She did know that he would be dead soon.

Jory had walked a distance away from the man and was throwing up under a tree. Daveth was also looking rather green. Darcy took her canteen from her pack and held it to the man's lips; he drank greedily. Once the man had quenched his thirst, Darcy started to question the man. She knew she did not have much time, but she had to know what fate had befallen her brother.

"Dolph, what happened here?" she asked, still holding the man's hand and stroking it gently.

"We...we were sent out to scout the area and report back." The man's breathing was ragged and came out in short gasps.

"We were on our way back to the camp...they just, they came out of nowhere...rose up from underneath the ground...so many...we did not stand a chance. You must return to camp...too dangerous...tell them...run!"

The man's eyes rolled back into his head and his breathing became very shallow, but Darcy had more questions and she could not allow him to die just yet. She reached over and patted his cheek.

"Dolph, Dolph, listen, I need to ask you something else, Dolph, look at me," there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

The man focused on her face once more with great effort. Darcy swallowed, her fear for her brother making it almost impossible to speak.

"Do you know Fergus Cousland? Was he in your contingent?"

Dolph's eyes, in the meantime, were rolling in his head again. She slapped his cheek again.

"Dolph, was Fergus in your group, please, Dolph."

"N...No...another..."

Dolph's breath hitched once and his body shuddered as death overtook it. His head rolled and his hand became slack within hers. Tears blinded her as she stumbled up from her kneeling position. Running towards a nearby tree; she let out a howl of anger, unsheathing one of her swords mid-run and hacked into the tree. The blade cut deep, catching in the tree and she could not pull it out again. Another angry growl emanated from her as she used both hands to yank at the stuck sword. It finally came loose, but Darcy lost her balance and landed hard on her backside. She lay there for a moment too dazed to do anything more. A pair of sturdy leather boots came into view, but Darcy refused to acknowledge them.

"I would ask if you are alright, but I'm afraid of my neck receiving the same fate as that poor tree over there."

Darcy blinked a few times and sat up; pulling her knees up to her chest and hiding her face in her arms. _Shameful behaviour Darcy Cousland, what would Father say? _Thoughts of her father made her want to cry and she swallowed hard to get past the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and allowed Alistair to help her up. He looked at her, concern written all over his face. Jory and Daveth were staring at her; mouths hanging slack in dumbfounded surprise.

"I'm fine," Darcy said; brushing dust from her bottom and legs and picking up her sword.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked hesitantly. She had not sheathed her sword yet and he wasn't taking any chances.

"Yes, I'm sure. I do not wish to talk about it."

Alistair sighed with relief when she sheathed her sword to join the other on her back.

"If you say so," he said; feeling braver now that the sword was no longer a threat.

"I say so," Darcy mumbled and started off, not caring if the others followed her. She needed to get out of this place and the sooner they got what they needed, the better.

* * *

The meal around the campfire was a quiet affair that night. They had walked deeper into the Wilds for another six hours after Darcy's epic fit of anger, but it got dark quickly and they were forced to stop and make camp. Darcy had kept to herself for the rest of the day and nothing Alistair or Jory said or did could get her out of her depression. Of course, it didn't help that Daveth kept hinting at her to join him on his bedroll; promising that she would soon forget all her troubles. Jory was amazed at the man's pigheadedness in refusing to take no for an answer. Darcy had even gone as far as threatening Daveth with removing the troublesome member if he did not cease his attentions towards her, but that did not deter him. Finally, Darcy had leapt up from her seat near the fire and said that she was going to wash in the river and making it very clear that she did not want to be disturbed. The men had let her be.

"Did you hear what that man said?" Jory started looking from Daveth to Alistair.

"He said they came from below the ground. Maker, they slaughtered an entire patrol of the King's soldiers. We are only four." Jory shuddered, thinking back at the sight of the dying man's wounds.

"Never fear, Grey Warden present. We will know if there are any Darkspawn in the vicinity." Alistair puffed out his chest a little and pointed to himself.

"How would you know if they're nearby?" Daveth asked.

"A Grey Warden can feel a Darkspawn presence when it is near, that's one of the things that make us special."

"How does that work?" Jory asked.

"It's a secret that cannot be divulged until you are a fully fledged Grey Warden." Alistair said matter-of-factly.

"If you ask me, there are too many secrets involved in becoming a Grey Warden. Just look at this joining ritual. No one has told us what to expect apart from telling us to come out here and collect three vials of Darkspawn blood. I'm no mage, but it sounds like bloodmagic to me." Daveth complained loudly.

Alistair rolled his eyes at Daveth. He was beginning to dislike the man more and more especially after seeing the way he was leering at Darcy.

"Well, it doesn't do you any good to complain about it. I can't divulge anything to you until the time of your joining."

All three men peered into the darkness surrounding the campfire when they heard footsteps approaching. Darcy appeared out of the shadows followed by her massive hound, whom Alistair had learned was named, Teebone. Alistair had yet to ask Darcy why he was named thus, but with the mood she was in this evening, he had decided to give her a wide berth. Darcy gave them all a level stare before stalking over to her bedroll. Teebone licked his mistress' hand once then sauntered over to the fire and flopped down near Alistair; laying his big head on his paws, he let out a huff of breath and promptly fell asleep.

Alistair watched as she opened her pack, took out a brush and begun combing her hair. There was something quite hypnotic about the way she did that. Jory and Daveth were still talking about the Joining; conjuring up countless possibilities for what the ritual entails.

"I still say this ritual stinks of bloodmagic," Daveth said shaking his head in disgust.

"I know what you mean. It's not like Duncan said anything about any ritual when he recruited me. I have a wife and child to think of, you know." Jory said frowning and poking a stick into the hot embers of the fire.

"You two complain more than a bunch of women having tea," Darcy scoffed from her corner by the fire. She had finished brushing her hair and she now wore it in a long braid that hung just below her shoulders. Taking her whet stone and oils from her pack she walked past Daveth and Jory to go sit near Alistair so that she could sharpen and clean her swords.

"If you join me in my bedroll tonight, I will show you just how much I am _not_ a woman," Daveth grinned lewdly at her and then proceeded to smack her on the rear as she passed him.

Alistair would later swear that everything happened in slow motion, because he remembers the exact moment Darcy lost her temper for a second time that day. The set of her shoulders and the straightening of her back, the set of her jaw and her hands bunched into fists at her side. Unfortunately for Daveth, there was no tree to take the brunt of Darcy's anger. Alistair could only watch as Darcy pulled her right arm back and took a swing at Daveth's face. The sickening crunch of cartilage and the high pitched scream of pain from Daveth told Alistair that Darcy had broken his nose. Without looking back Darcy walked off towards the river again. Teebone jumped up and followed.

"The bitch just broke my nose!" Daveth yelled; clutching his face whilst blood poured out between his fingers.

Jory burst out laughing; holding his sides and struggling to breathe through the paroxysms of his mirth.

"What's so bloody fuddy?" Daveth said; his speech impaired by his broken nose.

"I think you just got your bollocks handed to you on a plate." Alistair said drily and walked off in the direction Darcy had gone in.

She was sitting on a rock near the river nursing her right hand.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side. I'm far too handsome to be sporting a broken nose."

Darcy's back straightened and quickly wiped at her eyes. Alistair presumed she had been crying. Teebone gave a low warning growl at Alistair, but Darcy laid her hand on the beast's head and calmed him.

"I'm sorry, that's twice today that I lost my temper. I'm not normally this bad, I assure you." She gave a small smile and fidgeted with her hands in her lap.

Alistair took it as a sign that she was not about to behead him, so he sat down next to her.

"There's no need to apologize. Daveth had it coming; I'm only surprised you kept from punching the man for so long. As for the tree, well the tree was clearly at fault for being in the way of a very angry lady and a very mean looking sword."

Darcy gave a little laugh and her shoulders relaxed a little. It made Alistair smile too.

"No really, those are some mean looking swords you have there. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like them. They are quite exquisite. What sort of metal was used for the blades that it is almost black in colour?"

Darcy didn't answer for a moment and Alistair thought that she wasn't going to say anything, but then she unsheathed one and handed it to Alistair. The black blade gleamed in the moonlight.

"They have been in the family for many generations. They are made out of dragonbone; that is why the blades look black. It's the only –"

Darcy breathed in deeply. She was about to say that they were the last things her father gave her before he and the rest of the castle were slaughtered, but she could not get the words out. Alistair put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You're Darcy Cousland aren't you?" he asked softly. She nodded, but didn't speak.

"I knew I recognised you. It wasn't until earlier today when you asked that man, Dolph about Fergus Cousland that I remembered that you and I have met before at Redcliffe for Arl Aemon's engagement to the Lady Isolde."

A small smile played on her lips as she regarded Alistair.

"I wondered if you would remember. I was very young, six, I think, but I do remember that summer. Mother kept forcing me to wear dresses and making me curtsy every noble I passed. My cheeks ached from being pinched by everyone; telling me what a darling I was."

Darcy got a far off look in her eyes her smile turning sad and Alistair, for the umpteenth time, wondered what had occurred to make her so upset. The little girl, his first and only friend, for two weeks that summer, with the dark red ringlets that blazed like fire in the sunlight, was happy and giggly, who liked to skip and climb trees; stuffing her petticoats into her stockings and not caring if she got muddy and dirty.

"Little did they know that the little darling could pack a mean punch. Those Howe boys were sporting bruises and black eyes for a whole week after that incident."

Alistair grinned; thinking about it. He had been ordered to stay away from the guests and the party and was moved to the stables at Lady Isolde's insistence so that his room could be given to one of the nobles. He had been very unhappy with the whole situation. Up until Lady Isolde had moved into Redcliffe Castle; he had been treated fairly by Arl Aemon, even if he was constantly reminded that he was not to think of himself as a noble, that he was a bastard born on the wrong side of the sheets. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he did not notice Arl Rendon Howe's sons, Nathaniel and Thomas, until he bumped into them; walking around the corner of the barn. They had pushed him against the wall of the barn and started raining punches on him as 'suitable punishment for a bastard.' He had no way of defending their furious punches and kicks apart from curling himself into a ball and waiting for them to get bored. A loud shout caught the Howe boys by surprise and all Alistair could see was a streak of red hair and small fists pummelling the back of Nathaniel Howe's back. She had shouted at them; furious that they would bully someone like that, kicking at their shins and managing to get in a lucky punch; giving Thomas a black eye. The angry little girl was too much for the Howe boys and they fled towards the castle. She had crouched down beside him and had wiped the blood from his split lip with a lacy, white handkerchief. Her hair had come undone and her dress was dirty and slightly torn at the bottom, but she didn't seem to care. She took his hand and helped him up; leading him to sit on an overturned tree stump that was leaning against a shaded corner of the barn's wall. They had become fast friends after that and Darcy came to see him every day bringing him treats that she had managed to smuggle away from the elaborate banquets that were served every evening. It was the best two weeks of his life. It wasn't long after that that he was shipped off to the chantry.

Darcy had become very quiet beside him; the tension back in her shoulders. Alistair took her hand into his and covered it with his other hand.

"Won't you tell an old friend what has happened to make you so upset?"

Darcy did not say anything for a long time, but Alistair didn't push her and instead waited for her to speak.

"They're all gone," she whispered, "and there was nothing I could do. I should have stayed and fought, I should have defended them."

"Who, Darcy, what happened?"

"Father was readying his soldiers to march to Ostagar. Arl Howe and his men were to join our forces for the march, but Arl Howe turned up ahead of his men to tell Father that his soldiers were delayed. Father decided to send Fergus and our soldiers ahead with the intention of catching up with them once the Arl's soldiers arrived."

Darcy shivered and took a deep, ragged breath; trying hard not to cry. Alistair gave her hand a squeeze to comfort her.

"That night I woke up to Teebone's crazed barking, just as three men burst into my room. Their intent was perfectly clear, but my swords are never far from me and I managed to defend myself against their onslaught. I managed to don my armour before I heard a commotion in the hall. One of the servants was trying to protect my mother from being attacked by two more men. It was then that I recognised the crest on their shields. It was Arl Howe's men."

Alistair felt his blood turn cold as he watched the various emotions playing on her face. It was as if she was reliving it as she spoke.

"He betrayed Father. He waited for my father's soldiers to leave and then he took the castle; killing everyone in sight. My brother, he...he doesn't know...his wife and son...their bodies were still warm."

Silent tears coursed down her face and splashed on their hands. Alistair's chest constricted painfully at the thought of her having to live through such an ordeal.

"Mother and I made it to the main hall. We found Rory...Ser Gilmore holding the doors with a few of the house guard. He told us that Father was waiting for us in the pantry at the entrance of the escape tunnel. I wanted Rory to come with us, but he wouldn't. He said that he would hold off those soldiers as long as he could so that we could get to the pantry. I...do not know if he lives."

Darcy paused; her shoulders shaking slightly as she cried her silent tears. Alistair did not know what he could do or say to ease her pain. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand slightly and stroked the top of her hand with his thumb.

"We made it to the kitchens...Nan...oh, Nan...they had killed her too along with the kitchen servants. Their bodies were dumped in a pile as if they were nothing more than rubbish that needed to be thrown away."

Her tears came more freely now, sniffing and hiccoughing, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

"We found Father in the pantry, but he was grievously injured. We all knew he was not going to make it out of there. He had lost too much blood. He insisted that Mother and I leave him and escape, but Mother refused to leave him and I could not leave them there to die. It was my duty to defend them. That was when Duncan found us. With all that was going on, I had forgotten that Duncan had come to Highever to recruit for the Grey Wardens. He had come for Ro...Ser Gilmore. Father made him promise to get me to safety. In return, Duncan asked Father permission to recruit me. I would not go; I wanted to defend my parents. Duncan was forced to use the Right of Conscription on me. Even then he was forced to render me unconscious to get me out of the castle. I was angry at him for the whole journey to Ostagar."

There was a long silence between them. There was no need to speak; it was the comfortable silence of old friends; the trickling of water from the river and the gentle swaying of bulrushes in the breeze were the only sounds.

"I can't even begin to understand what you must be feeling. For what it is worth, I am sorry. Rendon Howe will pay for what he has done. I offer you my help in getting justice for your family."

Darcy looked up at Alistair and gave a watery smile.

"Thank you, Alistair, I appreciate it. I'm sorry for being such a blubbering fool. It will not happen again. Self-pity has never helped anyone. Let's go back to camp; I suppose I must apologize to Daveth for breaking his nose."

Alistair chuckled, "He'll think twice before trying to convince you to share his bedroll again."

Alistair started walking ahead, but Darcy took a moment to collect herself; looking up at the heavens and the twinkling stars. _I will make sure that Rendon Howe pays for his crimes. I promise. _A rustle in the underbrush startled her and she looked in the direction of the sound. A pair of pale yellow eyes and a silvery coat was all she glimpsed before it disappeared into the night. So it was following them; she thought grimly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi. Thank you to everyone who has viewed, reviewed and added this story to their favourite/follow; it is greatly appreciated. I will probably not be able to add a new chapter quite as regularly as I have been doing at the moment. My studies start again at the end of the month and that requires writing essays of a different kind. I'm not entirely sure where this story is going or how long it will take me to complete it. What I do promise is that it won't be a direct retelling of the game play. I know it looks like it at the moment, but I have some ideas and twists for this story. I just hope I do not disappoint. I don't have a beta, but my husband rereads everything I wrote. If you spot an error in grammar or spelling, please let me know. Here goes... -Rosie-**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

They broke camp before first light the next morning. They were all eager to get on with their task and get back to the safety of the main encampment at the Ostagar ruins. Although Darcy had apologized to Daveth several times, he refused to speak to her and kept well away from her. Darcy on the other hand was completely the opposite of the day before and was talking animatedly with Alistair and Jory.

They encountered their first group of Darkspawn an hour after sunrise. Darcy had only heard descriptions of the foul beasts, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of them. Their shiny black skin was tough and leathery and hard, like armour, in areas such as the chest and stomach. The skin on their skull-like heads was stretched tight and they had no eyelids or lips which made it look like they wore a constant grin. They made guttural sounds in the back of their throats which almost sounded like mocking laughter and their blood was a thick, purplish-black colour that had the rotten sweet smell of decomposing flesh. Darcy sent a prayer of thanks to the Maker for her time spent in Antiva where she spent many days in training to expect the unexpected. It was one of El Cuervo's favourite sayings. That way you could never be taken by surprise. Darcy took a split second to assess the charging horde and then flung herself into the fray.

Alistair's concern for Darcy's safety soon evaporated. Duncan had been right that her innocence was deceiving. He watched as she flitted and rolled, jumped and twirled around her enemies wielding her dragonbone swords that made a keening sound as they slashed through the air. She used her entire body to fight; using her legs to kick out and fists to punch as often as her swords - graceful but deadly.

The fight was over quickly and they managed to collect the blood that they needed for the Joining ritual. Darcy was relieved, because it meant that all they needed to do now was find the old Grey Warden tower and retrieve the documents inside. Duncan had explained that they were treaties that enlisted the aid of the Dwarves in Orzamar, the Dalish elves and the mages in Kinloch Hold, the Ferelden Circle. The treaties were old and had been signed after the last Blight as a promise to unite if another Blight arose.

They arrived at the tower late in the afternoon on the third day of being in the Kochari Wilds. They had fought through several more groups of Darkspawn before finally arriving there. The tower was in ruins. Darcy only hoped that the chest which held the documents were still intact. Duncan had assured them that wards had been placed around the chest and that it should still be fine. It was not. The wards must have worn away through the ages and the chest was broken into. Nothing remained inside.

Darcy was still contemplating what their next move should be when she spied movement near the far side of the crumbling down ruins. She straightened up and moved closer, unsheathing her swords. The three men, who had been bickering amongst themselves noticed and stood quietly watching her.

Darcy saw nothing at first, but moved closer. A sound to the left made her look in that direction. A woman with pitch-black hair, dressed in leather trappings, artfully arranged to just about cover her breasts stood there. Her jewellery resembled those described in a book Darcy had once read about the Chasind that lived in the Wilds. The woman carried a tall wooden staff in her right hand. Pale yellow eyes stared at Darcy. _So she is the one that has been following us ever since we entered the Wilds. _The woman's eyes held challenge, but Darcy slowly sheathed her swords and took a more relaxed stance, but never taking her eyes off the other woman.

"What are you doing?" Alistair whispered next to her.

Darcy responded by holding her hand up to stop Alistair from speaking. The woman took this as her cue to step forward.

"You are trespassing, pray tell, what are your intentions? Are you thieves or poachers; I assure you neither will be tolerated." The woman had a haughty tone to her voice.

Darcy put her hands up; a sign that they meant no harm.

"We are Grey Wardens. This used to be a Grey Warden tower; we came to retrieve some documents that were housed here."

"Tis a tower no longer and your documents are clearly gone," the woman said shrugging her shoulders.

"Be careful," Daveth spoke up for the first time all day. His nose made an odd whistling sound and his speech was still impaired due to swelling. "I grew up around these parts. She is a Witch of the Wilds, you cannot trust her."

"Did you take our documents? I demand that you give them back." Alistair said stomping his booted foot on the ground.

The woman arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, but refused to speak to him. Darcy gave a warning glare at her male companions to be quiet.

"Please, forgive my companions. They are weary from fighting Darkspawn and lack of proper sleep. Clearly it is having an impact on their manners. My name is Darcy, may I know yours?"

A slight smile played on the woman's lips.

"Ah, such lovely manners, even here in the Wilds; it is refreshing. You may call me Morrigan."

Darcy returned her smile.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Morrigan, you would not perhaps know what happened to the documents that were stored in this chest?"

"I assume that my mother must have taken it."

"So you did take our documents!" Alistair said angrily.

Morrigan regarded him coolly, but still did not acknowledge him by speaking to him. Turning instead to face Darcy again she said, "I would be happy to escort you to our home if you wish to speak to my mother about the documents."

Darcy smiled and nodded, "That would be most kind."

"Are you crazy?" Alistair said gripping Darcy's arm tightly.

"Alistair, we need those documents."

"You cannot trust her. She is a Witch of the Wilds!" Daveth hissed again on her other side.

"There see, Daveth agrees with me, you cannot trust her, she is a Witch of the Wilds. One minute she is all nice and friendly and the next minute it's _poof – _frog time!"

"Maybe we should just head back to the camp and tell Duncan that the documents were lost." Jory said, eying Morrigan warily.

Darcy shook her head at the three of them. "Bunch of babies," she muttered.

"Look, Alistair, we need those documents. Morrigan's mother has them and I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for it. If the three of you are too scared to come with me then go back to the encampment and I will go and get the documents on my own."

Alistair shook his head, "There is no way we are leaving you here on your own!"

"Then it is decided, we will go with Morrigan," Darcy said turning to follow the other woman.

* * *

It took them just over an hour to get to the humble little wood cabin that served as a home for Morrigan and her mother. To the front of the house was a large swamp covered in reeds and bulrushes, a dense forest spread to the back of the house and to the right was a small hill covered in long grass.

Morrigan's mother was a frail looking woman with wrinkled skin and silvery grey hair, but her eyes belied an ancient wisdom and cunning that made Darcy wary.

"Ah, much as I expected," the woman said.

"Are you saying you have been expecting us?" Alistair asked; a hint of panic in his voice.

"We must leave now, this is Flemeth; I knew this was a trick!" Daveth shouted.

"Daveth, calm yourself," Darcy scolded.

Jory stayed well back and Alistair eyed the woman warily.

The old woman chuckled, her voice sounded ancient and it rasped when she spoke.

"Flemeth, you say? I am just a poor old woman living with her daughter. Does that make me Flemeth? Perhaps." She had the same pale yellow eyes as Morrigan.

"I knew it, we're all going to be croaking before the day is over," Alistair mumbled.

The woman chuckled again, "Are you all so quick to believe the old stories?" she turned to face Darcy, "what of you, child, do you believe in stories?"

Darcy regarded to woman evenly, "I believe that a person should not be judged by appearances alone. Whether you are the witch of legend remains to be seen."

The woman threw her head back and laughed, "Oh you are wise beyond your years, clever child. Now tell me, what can an old woman like me do for you?'

"We came searching for some treaties that were stored away in a Grey Warden outpost not far from here, but when we found the outpost, the chest that should have contained the treaties were broken into and the documents were gone. That is where we met your daughter, Morrigan, who suggested that you might know something about it." Darcy said. The woman made her feel uncomfortable, but she was not about to let her know.

The old woman seemed to look right into her soul with those piercing yellow eyes of hers. They seemed almost otherworldly.

"It so happens that I do have the documents that you speak of. I have kept them safe after finding the chest broken into as you have described. I wondered when the Grey Wardens would come to collect them."

Out of her pouch she carried at her side, she produced a bundle of documents wrapped in string and handed it over to Darcy. The vellum was old and yellowed. Darcy took the parcel with great care, fearing that it might disintegrate if it was handled too roughly. She stored it away in her pack.

"Tell your Commander that the threat the Darkspawn poses, should not be underestimated."

"Thank you for guarding these for us and I will convey your message to our Commander," Darcy said as she accepted the documents. She wanted to ask what the old woman meant, but she didn't think she would get a straight answer.

"Clever and well mannered too, isn't that something, hey Morrigan?" The old woman said holding Darcy's silver eyes with her own yellow ones.

"Indeed, Mother, 'tis a rare thing these days," Morrigan said in a bored tone. She gave Darcy one final glance and disappeared into the cabin.

"Please, feel free to camp here tonight. It will be dark soon and it is much safer here. I will send Morrigan with you in the morning; she will show you a shorter route back to your encampment."

"Oh no, no we are not!" Alistair said glaring between Darcy and the old woman.

"Alistair, camping here is a good idea. If we leave now it will be dark before we can set camp and besides, Morrigan can show us the shorter route home in the morning. Do you really want to face more Darkspawn? We could all do with a good rest." Darcy stared intently into Alistair's eyes. _Stop acting like a fool. _She thought at him.

"Well, don't let me decide for you. Stay, go, do as you please, my offer stands." The woman said with a smile before turning and entering the little cabin.

* * *

By the time Darcy convinced her companions that it was a good idea to camp next to the little cabin, it had turned dark and all other objections to the idea became a moot point. Darcy offered to take first watch and the three men had sulkily retired to their bedrolls for the night. Darcy had no intention of waking the sleeping men; hoping that a good night's sleep would improve their moods. Darcy was trained to function with only the minimum sleep. The secret to being a good assassin was to be always vigilant and even when asleep, Darcy was always aware of her surroundings.

She sat in quiet contemplation whilst cleaning and sharpening her swords. Caressing the beautiful carvings that depicted her family history on the pommel of one sword, she let her thoughts have free reign. So many things have happened since her escape from Castle Cousland. She could hardly believe that only two weeks have passed. She wondered what the real reason was for Morrigan's mother having the Grey Warden treaties. Whatever the old woman was, she was most definitely not just an old woman. Of that Darcy was certain. The sound of soft footfalls made Darcy turn quickly to look behind her and was surprised to see Morrigan walking towards her. She carried a mug with something steaming in it.

"Can't you sleep?" Darcy asked as Morrigan took a seat next to her.

"I require little sleep. I thought I might bring you this tea to help you stay awake. It is your intention to keep watch the entire night and not wake these blundering fools that has accompanied you, is it not?"

Darcy accepted the mug from Morrigan and sniffed the contents. A strong, herbal smell assaulted her senses.

"What sort of tea is it?" Darcy asked curiously.

'Tis simply a mixture of dandelion, elfroot and deep mushroom extract designed to rejuvenate the body. Drink it or not, I do not care." Morrigan dismissed the mug with a wave of her hand.

"Thank you, it was very thoughtful of you." Darcy said and took a sip of the tea. It had a strong taste to it but it was hot and soothing.

"Think nothing of it."

"How did you know I was not going to wake the others for a watch?" Darcy asked.

"Because you seem to be less of a fool than these boys you travel with and besides, it is well into the second watch. If you had any intention of waking them; you would have done so by now." Morrigan scoffed as she looked at the three snoring men sleeping on the other side of the fire.

"You have been watching me from the house," Darcy stated. It was not a question, she had known for a while. Assassins were trained to be perfectly in tune with their environment and to note anything that was out of the ordinary.

"Indeed," was all that Morrigan said.

"In fact, you have been watching us ever since the wolf-attack three days ago." Darcy said. Again it was a statement.

Morrigan's eyes widened very slightly. An untrained person would have missed it, but Darcy did not.

"Yes," Morrigan confirmed.

"You are a shape shifter," Darcy said.

Morrigan turned to look at Darcy; her eyes wary.

"You are full of surprises. What do you know of shape shifting? It is classed as forbidden magic by your Chantry is it not?"

Darcy noticed how Morrigan deflected her question with another question and smiled inwardly. Her suspicions were confirmed.

"I had a rather eccentric tutor. Aldous believed that' knowledge governs ignorance,'" She made her voice deep and croaky imitating the old man's voice.

The corners of Morrigan's mouth quirked upwards, but she did not smile outright.

"Your tutor is a wise man."

Darcy felt a pang of sadness course through her heart as she thought of Aldous. The twinkling in his wizened eyes and smile that never quite left his mouth; to know that she would never see it again made her heart squeeze in pain.

"Your tutor lives no longer?" Morrigan asked; canting her head to the side as she studied the emotions playing over Darcy's face.

Darcy met Morrigan's eyes and held them, "I suspect you know more of my history than you are letting on. You were listening when I told Alistair while we were sitting by the river on our first night in the Wilds."

Morrigan turned to stare into the fire. There was a stony silence that stretched for several long minutes before Morrigan rose from her seat.

"Make sure you wake the fools at first light. We will leave soon after."

Morrigan did not look back at Darcy before she entered the cabin once more. Darcy was left to ponder all that had been said and not said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the next instalment. Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

Their return journey took only one and a half days. Morrigan had been waiting impatiently for them to break camp the next morning and the set off just as the first rays of sunlight crept across the horizon. Alistair had been annoyed that Darcy did not wake him for his watch, but he had to admit that he felt more refreshed after a good night's sleep and added to that, the fact that they haven't all been turned into frogs, made up for it.

Now, on the eve of their return to the encampment, the three recruits and Alistair gathered around a small fire in a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, of the Ostagar ruins. The Joining ritual was about to commence and the three recruits felt jittery with nerves as they waited for Duncan to arrive. Jory and Daveth were still harping on about how it was not fair that they didn't know what the ritual entailed and how it all seemed a little sinister. Darcy shook her head and rolled her eyes at them, but when she looked over at Alistair, her stomach clenched into a tight knot, because Alistair looked worried. His brows were pulled together in a frown, his mouth was drawn into a tight line and he was very quiet; which was unusual for Alistair. Darcy prepared herself for the worst and silently awaited Duncan's arrival.

The appearance of the tall, stoic man with a full beard and black hair that was greying at the sides finally made Jory and Daveth cease their nattering. Duncan carried a large pewter chalice and three vials of what looked like the Darkspawn blood that they had collected in the Wilds. Darcy's heart beat sped up when she realised just what had been intended with the Darkspawn blood. _Oh Maker, we are to drink it then. _ Darcy knew as much about Darkspawn as every other Ferelden did, which wasn't much, but she did know that their blood carried the Taint. She had heard the stories of people becoming infected with the Taint; their blood becoming corrupted and becoming mindless ghouls spreading their disease and often becoming cannibalistic before dying. Darcy shuddered at the thought.

Duncan placed the chalice and vials upon a small wooden table that had been set up for use during the joining ritual and regarded the three recruits solemnly. Darcy struggled to swallow; her mouth and throat had suddenly become very dry.

"We speak only a few words before we begin the ritual. We bear a sacred burden to annihilate the threat of Darkspawn during times of peace and, like now, during blight. Alistair, would you please say the words so that we can begin." He gestured towards Alistair who had become even more silent and withdrawn.

Alistair nodded solemnly and began; speaking in a low tone as solemn as the look on his face.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Alistair stepped back and handed Duncan the chalice which was now filled with the first vial of Darkspawn blood. He would not meet her eyes. Instead he stared at the floor; his face looking pale and drawn. Darcy's heart raced, _'and should you perish...' _she knew now that she would either leave this secluded spot in the ruins as a Grey Warden, or die.

Duncan beckoned to Daveth, "Step forward and accept your duty, Daveth."

Daveth hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and accepting the chalice from Duncan. He stared at it for a long moment before bringing it to his lips. Throwing his head back he swallowed the foul liquid in one gulp. For a moment, nothing happened and Darcy found she was holding her breath. Then, suddenly, Daveth grasped his throat and screamed as his body shuddered and convulsed; falling to the ground. He cried out in pain for a few more minutes before his eyes rolled back in his head and his body stilled. Darcy stared, horrified by what she had just witnessed. Daveth was dead.

Duncan bent over Daveth's body and used his hands to close his dead, staring eyes.

"I am sorry, Daveth. Know that your sacrifice was not in vain."

Duncan arose from the floor and Alistair handed him the chalice once more, this time filled with the second vial of blood.

"Jory, step forward and accept your duty," Duncan beckoned.

"No, no, this is madness... a mistake; I cannot go ahead with this joining. I have a wife, a... a child on the way. I cannot take the risk; there is no honour in this!' Jory backed away from Duncan trying to ward him off with his hands.

"I am sorry Jory, but there is no turning back. You must partake of the ritual."

"No, I cannot!" Jory drew his blade and took a swing at Duncan, but it was blocked by Duncan's own blade. Jory took another swing at Duncan, but missed when the older man sidestepped. The move had left Jory's front wide open and Duncan thrust his blade into Jory's stomach. Jory's eyes widened in surprise; mouth gaping, gasping for breath and nerveless fingers dropped the blade it was holding. Duncan held the dying man and lowered him to the floor.

"I am sorry, Jory, for your sacrifice." Duncan looked sad as he lay the man down on the floor.

Darcy thought her heart would escape and take flight. She glanced at Alistair, but he would still not meet her eyes. Now she understood the secrecy surrounding the Grey Wardens. The Joining was a barbaric ritual, who knew what other secrets the Grey Wardens held.

Duncan once more held the pewter chalice, now filled with the last vial of blood. It was her turn and Darcy had never felt so afraid. Not even witnessing the slaughter of her own family had inspired the fear she now felt when she saw Duncan move towards her with the chalice. If she refused, she would be killed. If she drank from the chalice, there was a high probability that she would die, but there was also the chance that she may live. If she lived she could fulfil her oath to seek justice for her family. It was her duty to seek justice and a Cousland always honoured their duty. She accepted the cup with trembling hands and brought it to her lips. The stench emanating from it made her stomach convulse and she fought hard to control the urge to throw up. Tipping her head back she swallowed quickly, dropping the chalice afterwards.

For a moment nothing happens, and then searing pain overthrew all her senses as the corrosive liquid coursed down her throat and into her body. She clutched at her throat as she struggled to breathe; falling to her knees as her body convulsed with pain. _I am dying, _she thought as blackness surrounded her and she collapsed on the floor.

_An unearthly sound screeched all around her. It seems to come from all directions at once. The sky was a strange, green, ethereal hue and the air was cloying and putrid. Darcy did not know where she was, but she needed to leave this place. Her whole being cried out for her to leave, but Darcy didn't know which way to go. Stone walls rose up to her left. A hot molten river of lava flowed to the right. She turned around to see what lay behind her, but the way was obscured by a rockslide. There was nothing for it, she could only move forward. As she walked along the winding path, she thought she could hear a steady thump-thumping like the sound of a far away beating drum. The sound became louder as she walked until it became an overpowering thunderous beat that seemed to vibrate through her body. The path suddenly ended and before her stretched an enormous chasm. Darcy stopped at the edge and looked down; the thunderous beating rhythm seemed to emanate from the bottom of the chasm. An endless line of Darkspawn stretched as far as the eye could see marched below her in perfect unison. Fear clawed at her, spread through her entire being as she watched row after row of Darkspawn as they passed beneath her. Another unearthly screech resounded across the chasm and bounced of the stone walls. And then she saw it. She had never seen a dragon before; only in pictures, but the creature standing on the opposite side of the chasm was a fearsome thing to behold. Shiny black scales covered its entire body and large, spiky horns crowned its head. More spikes ran down its serpent-like neck and another cluster of barbed spikes were near the tip of its sweeping tail. Its leather wings were folded close to its body and in its mouth were rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was in that moment that Darcy knew, without a doubt, that she was looking at the Archdemon. As the realisation hit her, the creature let out another ear splitting screech which made Darcy curl into herself clutching her ears in pain. This time, the creature did not stop and the pain in her head increased with each new screech. Darcy cried out as the pain in her head became unbearable. Finally as another screech echoed around her it became too much and she gave herself up to the sweet caress of the blackness that came to meet her once more._

Darcy slowly became aware of voices speaking somewhere above her. They sounded far away; she could hear the tone of the voices, but she could not hear what they said. A warm hand lightly touched her forehead; only for an instant and then it was gone. A pained moan sounded from somewhere near her and it took her a while to realise that she was the one making the sound. Her entire body ached and it felt like her bones were made out of stone, because she did not have the strength to move her limbs. Her hearing seemed to clear slightly because the voices seemed nearer. She was sure she recognised them; two male voices.

"You need not fret any longer, Alistair, she will live. Her will is strong; she is a fighter."

"You were right, Duncan. At first I thought you had made a mistake recruiting her, but I see now that you chose wisely."

Darcy tried to place the names in her fogged memory. She knew those names! An image of a dark, bearded man with sorrowful brown eyes rose from the fog that was her brain, Duncan! That man was called Duncan. Another image formed and this man was much younger. He had honey-blonde hair with reddish highlights. Rich hazel eyes sparkled with laughter and a cheeky grin played on his lips. Another memory played in her mind and this time she saw herself as a young girl and she was running and laughing; holding hands with a boy with the same hair and cheeky smile – Alistair. Memories started flooding her mind; her father smiling at her as he gives her the family blades, shouts and screams and the red haze of fire, the bodies of her sister-in-law and nephew; still warm to the touch, her father lying on the floor of the pantry; blood pooling around him. Her mother's hot tears as she kissed her goodbye. The sprawling encampment of the Kings soldiers at Ostagar, the swamp witch with her strange, pale yellow eyes. Daveth, body convulsing in the paroxysms of death and Jory, struck down by Duncan's hand. She remembered everything.

Darcy opened her eyes. Two blurry head-shaped outlines came into view. She blinked a few times and tried to focus on the faces. Dark brown and hazel eyes stared back at her; concern etched into their faces – Duncan and Alistair. _I survived, _and the emotion that came with the realisation swept through her making her shiver and shake with shock. Alistair produced a blanket from somewhere and draped it around her shoulders.

"Welcome back," Alistair said smiling at her uncertainly. He wasn't sure how she would react towards him now that she knew what he was withholding from her regarding the Joining ritual. Darcy studied him for a long while before a tentative smile plucked at the corners of her mouth and Alistair felt his shoulders relax for the first time since this ritual started. He had been so afraid that she would die.

Darcy's eyes flicked towards Duncan and the warm, liquid quicksilver of her eyes turned to cold hard steel grey. Anger flowed off her person in waves and in one graceful movement she was up on her feet; shrugging off the blanket. Duncan's eyes widened slightly and he regarded her warily.

"You killed Ser Jory in cold blood you bastard!" She yelled and took a swing at him with her right hook.

Duncan had anticipated this and managed to duck out of the way, but this only incensed her further.

"He had a wife and child, how could you murder him? You could have just let him go!" She took another swing at Duncan, but Alistair came up behind her and enfolded her in his strong arms.

"Darcy, Darcy, calm down. Please, you must calm down." Alistair whispered soothingly in her ear. She relaxed her stance a little but she still glared angrily at Duncan.

Duncan's eyes were sad and his mouth was pulled down at the corners. Suddenly he looked ten years older; the crow's feet along his eyes seemed deeper and his stance was more bowed as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. When he spoke his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I am sorry that it came to that. Once a person commits, there is no turning back. It is the way of the Grey Wardens as it has always been. You must rest; Alistair please see her to her tent and make sure she has something to eat. The king has requested her presence at the strategy meeting at midday tomorrow." With one more glance her way Duncan turned and stalked briskly away.

Alistair was still holding her, but he let her go when she pushed against his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly.

"No," she glared at him.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," she said softly.

"Come on; let's get you to your tent."

Alistair grasped her hand lightly in his and led her towards the Grey Warden camp and her tent.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy was not in the mood to figure out why King Cailan had summoned her to the war council to plan strategy. Surely that was to be done between himself, his general and Duncan. She knew Teyrn Loghain was here; she had seen him stalking towards his tent on the first day of her arrival, followed by a very aggravated woman whom she vaguely remembered was named Ser Cauthrien. She wondered if he would recognise her. It had been a long time since he had been at Castle Cousland to see her father and she had been a little girl. Surely having the hero of the River Dane on your war council would mean more than having a mere Grey Warden rookie present? Darcy knew all about strategy planning. She remembered sitting in the library with her father and brother poring over maps of Ferelden and neighbouring countries devising great strategies for imaginary wars. Fergus was to inherit the teyrnir from Father and Father, after all was a war hero in his own right. He had fought bravely alongside King Maric Theirin and Teyrn Loghain against the Orlesian occupation almost thirty years earlier.

So, when Duncan came to find her for the meeting with the War Council; she followed wordlessly. Partly because she was still furious with Duncan and partly because she was trying to figure out what her purpose at this meeting would be.

The War Council was meeting in a secluded area of the ruins far away from the encampment. Two guards were stationed at the entrance. A long table was set up to one side of what used to be a large room or hall; covered with different foods and dishes to one side and several different wines, ales and whiskeys. This was going to be a very long meeting then, she thought. At another table, covered in maps of Ferelden and larger maps of the area around Ostagar, sat King Cailan Theirin, Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir and his Second, Ser Cauthrien and another woman, whom she did not recognise. She wore mage robes, so Darcy assumed that she was a representative from the Circle of Magi. She was an older woman with greying hair, but she had a kind face and soft eyes with an almost motherly expression. King Cailan looked resplendent in gold plated ceremonial armour. His features were attractive and his eyes had laugh lines in the corners. He wore a friendly, jovial expression and he seemed quite at ease with his surroundings. Teyrn Loghain, looked rather annoyed and frustrated. His dark brows were pulled together in a deep frown; his clear blue eyes as cold as ice and his mouth was pressed into a thin line as if he was trying very hard to hold his tongue. _He clearly did not regard the son as highly as he did the father, _Darcy thought; frowning as she assessed the mood of the room. There was definitely tension in the air.

"Ah, here are the Wardens now. Come, come, you are welcome, please sit." King Cailan beckoned Darcy and Duncan to sit.

"I'm sure you are all familiar with the Warden-Commander of the Grey for Ferelden, Duncan and...Ah, yes, this is the new recruit, Darcy Cousland." He took her hand and shook it vigorously making her teeth clatter.

"Loghain, you must recognise this young woman, she is the daughter of Teyrn Cousland of Highever," Darcy could feel the icy blue eyes shift to her and scrutinise her, but Loghain said nothing. Not that King Cailan would give him the opportunity to do so, for he just kept on talking.

"Tell me Darcy, how is your father, is he well? And your dear mother, she is such a kind woman." Darcy felt her heart constrict as she fought to keep her composure. The king did not know what had happened then. She glared angrily at Duncan. Why had he not mentioned this to the king? Swallowing hard, she stared levelly at her king; her ire rising every minute.

"My father and the rest of my family were brutally murdered at the hands of Arl Rendon Howe not a fortnight ago. I only escaped with my life, because Duncan conscripted me into the Grey Wardens."

There was a stunned silence and an indrawn gasp from the mage standing in the background. King Cailan looked confused and flustered; for once not knowing what to say. Duncan cleared his throat awkwardly. Darcy continued to stare at the king levelly; her shoulders straight and her jaw set.

"That...that is a very serious accusation, Lady Cousland, are you sure it was the Arl?" Darcy found that she disliked this man; for all his appearances of being king, the man was an idiot.

Before she could answer, Duncan spoke up.

"It is true, my Lord. Though I would not have chosen to speak of it as the young lady has just done," he glared at Darcy, who chose to ignore him, "what she says is the truth. Arl Rendon Howe betrayed his friend and took over Castle Cousland; killing all its inhabitants. Darcy and I escaped only because her parents were willing to lay down their lives for their daughter."

Another silence followed, but this one was filled with pity which was even worse than the awkward silence before. Darcy did not need or want their pity.

"I am truly sorry for your loss. Once this battle is won, I will make it my top priority to seek justice for your family." The king lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Rest assured, your majesty, that once this battle is over, I will follow you to Denerim and I will not rest until justice has been served."

The king swallowed hard as he looked at the steely eyes of the newest Warden before him. He had every reason to believe that she would not let him rest until she got her justice; she was a fearsome creature. Suddenly he was grateful that her father refused the offer for her hand in marriage; claiming that she was too young. When it became clear that Anora would not bear him children; Arl Aemon had suggested casting her aside and finding a new Queen. Darcy Cousland had been one of the possible options. _'She would be a good choice, your majesty,' _the Arl had said, '_she is very biddable.' _Looking at the Warden now, he thought that she was anything but biddable. He nodded; feeling like a naughty child under her gaze.

"I would expect nothing less from the daughter of Teyrn Cousland."

Turning to take his seat at the table once more; he let out an unsteady breath and pulled a map closer to him, while Darcy and Duncan took the empty seats at the table.

"Well, now that the introductions have been made," the king cleared his throat uncomfortably; "let's get back to planning our strategy."

Darcy had yet to figure out what she was doing here. She watched the king as he spoke; he seemed young for his age, almost immature from some of the comments he was making. Darcy wondered if he had a clue as to what he was doing. The more she studied his face the more she thought that it looked familiar to her. Some of the off jokes he told reminded her of Alistair. She took a closer look at the man's face. His hair was more blonde and longer; hanging on his shoulders, but his eyes were the same rich hazel and his mouth and facial features resembled that of Alistair's. Realisation dawned very slowly for Darcy. She knew that Alistair was a bastard; it had been the talk of the Bannorn for years and everyone had thought he was Arl Aemon's bastard. But now, as she was studying the face of the king, she was confident that her assessment was correct.

"Teyrn Loghain will station his men to the west of the ruins and wait for the signal that will be lit at the top of the tower before joining the main battle where I and the rest of the armies will be. I want archers and ballistae on the walls and the bridge. The Grey Wardens will make up part of the main army, led by Duncan. I have given the task of lighting the signal on top of the tower to two of the Grey –"

Loghain's fist slammed loudly into the table cutting the king off mid-sentence.

"You are putting too much stock in these Grey Wardens. Why are they the only ones that can stop a blight? Who says we need them to kill Darkspawn? Their so called First Warden is an Orlesian, can you not see that this is the perfect way for the Orlesians to retake Ferelden? They can infiltrate through the Grey Wardens. Your Majesty, you must see reason!"

"My good man, please calm yourself; I don't think Empress Celene is interested in retaking Ferelden. As you well know we now have well established trading agreements with Orlais set up between the Empress and myself. I can assure you Ferelden is quite safe from Orlesian invasion."

"The Grey Wardens keep away from politics, your Grace, we are neutral. Our only priority is to rid the land of Darkspawn." Duncan spoke calmly and kept a level voice.

"And I say I don't believe you!" Shouted Teyrn Loghain. Anger blazed in his eyes and his hands were balled into tight fists.

"Teyrn Loghain, I will remind you that I am King and what I say, goes. You would do well to remember that."

Teyrn Loghain glared at Duncan, but he did not speak again.

"As I was saying, I want two of the Grey Wardens to light the beacon on top of the Tower of Ishal. I have already spoken to Duncan about this and I believe that Grey Wardens Alistair and Darcy will be the best choice for this task."

Darcy frowned. This was a very odd request for Grey Wardens. Why could it not be two soldiers, or even better, why could a mage not light the signal from a distance? Something did not make sense. Something is not being said. Darcy blocked out the conversation that floated around her as she mulled over the facts. If she was correct, Alistair would be eligible to take the throne, should anything happen to King Cailan. Could it be that the king knew something was amiss? Was he protecting the Theirin claim to the throne? Darcy thought that it was a very good possibility, but why would they want _her _to go with Alistair? Should they not send someone more experienced than her? She had only been a Grey Warden for all of ten hours, surely there was someone more up to the task. Darcy sighed and shook her head. There was no point to think on it further. She had her orders and she would follow them. She had also been watching the General during his outburst. The man was adamant that the Orlesians bore the greater threat to Ferelden. He completely dismissed the Darkspawn threat even if scouts had been reporting back speaking of a great horde that was marching this way. Darcy had a terrible sense of foreboding. The witch's words played over and over in our head; _'The threat the Darkspawn poses should not be underestimated.' _ A small shiver ran down her back.

Theyrn Loghain had been studying the girl from the corner of his eye ever since she entered the 'War Room' as it was named by stupid boy who thought he could be king. He had only consented to the marriage between Cailan and his daughter, Anora, because he knew that she had a good head on her shoulders and as the past years have proven; she made a far better ruler than Cailan ever would. He was nothing like Maric and he was glad his old friend could not see the stupidity of his son. This girl though, Bryce Cousland's daughter, was something else. She was a force to be reckoned with. She carried herself with pride and confidence, she gave nothing away; her features perfectly schooled. She did not join in the discussions going on around her; instead she listened and watched and assessed. He knew the exact moment she made the connection between her fellow Grey Warden and the king. Her eyes had narrowed slightly and she had stared pointedly at King Cailan. She had an inner strength that shined in her eyes. That fool, Rendon Howe, made a grave mistake when he declared himself the enemy of the Couslands. He wished he didn't need the man, but at the moment he still served a useful purpose to further his own goals.

"So, are we all clear about what is to be expected of each faction?" King Cailan pushed the maps away from him and looked expectantly at those present around the table.

"I think we do, Your Majesty," Duncan said; inclining his head.

"Wonderful, then I propose we sample some of the scrumptious fare laid out for us on that table over there." The king promptly pushed his chair back and sauntered over to the table with the food on it.

Darcy was still deep in thought, when the older woman came to join her in the seat next to her.

"Are you not hungry, dear?"

Darcy blinked a couple of times in order to focus on the woman; she had been staring blankly at the same nick in the wood of the table for some time. The woman's brow was lightly creased with concern.

"No, but thank you for your concern." It was a lie, she was ravenous, but she couldn't bring herself to eat when there were so many things mulling about in her mind.

The woman didn't seem to believe her, but she let it go.

"My name is Wynne; we did not have the opportunity to be introduced properly earlier."

Darcy took the offered hand in greeting.

"I apologize for my earlier outburst. I fear I am in a state of emotional flux at present; I cannot seem to control it." Darcy met the soft blue eyes of the older woman. There was pity in her eyes, but more than that, there was understanding. Darcy felt that she could like this woman.

"No need to apologize, child, I only briefly remember my own family, since I was very young when the Templars came for me. I do remember how devastated I was in losing my family; I can't imagine what it must be like for you."

Darcy willed the tears that threatened to recede. She was not going to cry!

"You are from the Circle of Magi; I take it the heavily armoured Templar standing over there is your guard?" Darcy asked; briefly glancing towards the hulking figure in heavy silverite armour and enormous greatsword on his back.

"Indeed, I am here as part of a group of seven mages that have come to help in the upcoming battle." Wynne looked slightly amused.

"You are a healer." Darcy stated.

The older woman stared at her in surprise.

"How did you know that? Most people can guess that I am a mage; the robes and staff give me away every time, but not many can guess my specialization."

Darcy smiled; being observant meant being a good assassin.

"I noticed that you carry an apothecary's pouch on your hip. Judging from the way it is pulling downwards and by the clinking of vials and bottles inside the pouch, I could only conclude that you are a healer."

"My word, you are a bright one. Duncan chose well when he recruited you." Wynne smiled kindly.

Darcy spotted Duncan beckoning to her; he was leaving and she had to go too.

"Please excuse me, Wynne, my Commander is calling me. It was nice to meet you."

"And you, child." The woman squeezed her shoulder then moved to speak to King Cailan.

Darcy followed Duncan out into the sunlight. She had many questions for Duncan, but she was unsure of how to voice them.

"Why me?" she asked finally.

Duncan looked at her; startled by her question.

"I'm sorry; I do not understand your question."

"I know why you are sending Alistair to light the signal; it is safe and out of the way of the main battle, but...why me? Why not a more experienced warden?"

Darcy glanced at Duncan; he was looking at her with calculating eyes which he quickly masked when he noticed her looking at him.

"You are as good a choice as any; why not you? Do not underestimate your ability to keep Alistair safe."

Darcy stopped walking and faced Duncan; forcing him to stop too.

"Duncan...I think something is going to happen. I'm not sure what, but something seems...off."

Duncan stared at her for a long moment; his mouth pulled into a grim line. He nodded slightly before continuing towards the camp.

_He knows, _Darcy thought.

The rest of the afternoon was spent resting. Alistair was not happy with the orders they had received and was sulking.

"Why do we not get to fight with the main army? Why does it have to be two Wardens that need to light the signal? Surely two normal soldiers would do just as well." Darcy rolled her eyes; the man could whine like a five year old boy.

"King Cailan has personally requested that you and Darcy light the signal. Are you going to refuse to follow his orders?" Duncan looked every part the strict father.

Alistair looked down at his feet; kicking at a large stone with his boot. "Fine, but if the King asks me to dance a jig in a dress, I'm drawing the line." He drew an imaginary line through the air with his right hand.

Darcy giggled, "That would be a very funny sight indeed!"

"I'd do it for you if you asked...nicely, of course," Alistair puckered his lips, leaning in for a kiss and waggled his eyebrows at her. Darcy jumped out of the way, still laughing.

Duncan sighed heavily; shaking his head as he walked away.

An hour after sunset, the alarm was raised; the enemy was marching...


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi all, here is the next instalment. I know it's still quite close to the gameplay, but once we get to Lothering you will begin to see some differences. I don't have a Beta for this story and so apologize for any spelling and grammatical errors, but I do obsessively reread every chapter about six times and I make my husband read it too. Well, here goes... I hope you like it.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

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Heart hammering in her throat she grabbed her swords; at the same time whistling for Teebone to take his place by her side. The Mabari was at her heels in seconds. Scanning the camp full of Wardens milling about to get their gear she caught a glimpse of Alistair hefting his shield onto his back and made her way over to him.

"I guess this is it then, we should head towards the tower." Alistair's eyes were strained and his mouth was a grim line of determination.

Darcy nodded her assent. They set off at a brisk pace, but were stopped by Duncan at the edge of the Warden's camp.

Duncan put a hand on Alistair's shoulder, "We are counting on you. Go swiftly and the Maker watch over you." He nodded towards Darcy; the meaning in his eyes clear; _protect him with your life. _Darcy inclined her head at Duncan; she understood.

"Maker watch over you Duncan," Alistair said then turned to Darcy. "Well, I guess we need to get going, then."

"Indeed, it is best that we hurry," Darcy said and then started walking in the direction of the bridge with Teebone following close on her heels.

Alistair had to run to keep up, which was difficult in his heavy armour. He marvelled at how calm Darcy was. She walked with determination; her shoulders were straight and her eyes were fixed on the goal ahead of them. He wished he could exude even a fraction of her calmness, but his mind was panicking and his heart was racing. This was war and the outcome was undecided.

The main part of the army had amassed in the field below the ruins. At the head of the army stood King Cailan in his golden armour; glinting in the waning light of day. His standard bearers stood on either side of him bearing the Royal standard; two dogs on either side supporting a golden crown. The dog on the left wielded an axe; the symbol of Ferelden's might and the dog on the right wielded a royal sceptre to symbolise the king's command. The king's voice floated on the wind towards Darcy and Alistair as they made their way towards the bridge. They could not hear the words he spoke, but the roar of the army suggested that it was an inspiring speech. Darcy and Alistair had just reached the beginning of the bridge when the frontline of the enemy army came into view. It was a frightening sight. They appeared out of the fog covered woods like phantoms. Line after line of armoured Darkspawn followed and the ground shook with every footstep of at least two dozen ogres. _Maker help us, _Darcy prayed.

The sound of archers shouting and the sharp, snap release of the ballistae brought Darcy's attention back to their own situation. There was nothing they could do for the soldiers down on the battlefield. They had a task to perform and Maker help them, but they will accomplish it. She turned to Alistair who was still staring at the progressing horde and pulled on his arm.

"Come on, we have to get the signal lit!"

Alistair seemed to snap to attention and nodded, "Right behind you."

Crossing the bridge proved to be no simple task. Ogres had taken up position below the walls and were hurling huge boulders at the archers and ballistae on top. A huge boulder crashed just in front of the two wardens; crushing several archers and ballistae in the process. Darcy thought her heart was going to fly free of her chest, it was beating so fast. She wanted to stop and help the injured men, but she knew that every minute spent helping them was another minute longer to light the signal. If they didn't light the signal the help they gave these men now would be pointless, so, she squared her shoulders and ran around the boulder and ignored the shouts of pain and screams of anguish whilst praying to the Maker to watch over them. Chaos erupted around them as more boulders came hurtling towards the bridge. One boulder came so close to hitting the two wardens that they had to fling themselves out of the way. Darcy landed hard on her side and her head knocked against the wooden framework of a ballistae. The engineer that was working the ballistae hung limply over the cranking arm; his dead eyes staring at Darcy as blood dripped slowly from his slack mouth. Darcy forced herself to get up and ignored the bitter taste of bile that threatened to rise from her stomach. Slightly disorientated; she cast her eyes about her to find Alistair. She heard Teebone barking and spotted him standing over the prone figure of her companion. She hurried over and shook him awake; she could not see any visible injuries, so that was a good thing.

"Get up Alistair, what are you doing. We don't have time to be lying about; we have a task to perform. Get up, get up!"

An incoherent mumble elicited from his mouth, but Darcy ignored it and tried to pull the man into a sitting position. It was near impossible; the man was strong, muscular and encased in heavy armour, so she did the only thing she could think of. She slapped him hard across the face. That seemed to do the trick; Alistair's eyes opened wide in surprise before his eyebrows pulled down in an angry scowl.

"Maker's breath woman, what in Void are you doing?"

"Come on Alistair we need to hurry!" Darcy pulled him by the arm to get him to his feet; this time with a little more success.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming." Alistair rose with a grunt and shook his head to clear the fog from his mind. He followed Darcy all the while cursing crazy short women with bad tempers and mean slapping skills.

They had finally made it across the bridge, but chaos reigned on this side of the ruins as well. The bodies of dead soldiers lay strewn over the ground with only a few Darkspawn corpses in the mix. Other soldiers were fighting off groups of Darkspawn, but as far as Darcy could see, they were not making any progress. As soon as one Darkspawn fell another took its place. Turning left, the two Wardens and the Mabari ran up the ramp towards the tower entrance. A large blast of dark energy threw them off their feet and a low mocking rumble followed in its wake. Darcy spotted the Darkspawn Emissary first. It was standing on top of one of the lookout platforms; his hands were already busy moving as he chanted his next spell of attack. Darcy rolled out of the way as another blast of energy hit the spot she had just occupied. Scrambling to her feet, she ran towards the scaffolding holding up the platform. She could not use the stairs, because it would expect her to. Instead, she nimbly clambered up the side of the platform and came up behind the creature. It was now focusing on Alistair so it did not hear her when she unsheathed her sword and sliced deeply into the rubbery skin of its neck. It dropped with a loud gurgle as its blood spurted rhythmically from the gaping wound. Not looking back, Darcy ran down the rampart to rejoin her Mabari and Alistair.

"Come on, we are wasting time" Darcy shouted as she ran past Alistair; cutting down another Darkspawn that came at her.

"Coming," Alistair shouted back and blocked an attack coming from his left with his shield and slicing through the creature's torso with his blade.

"Why are there so many Darkspawn here?" Alistair asked just as they came to the entrance of the tower.

They helped two soldiers cut down three more Darkspawn before Alistair finally got his answer.

"Are you the Grey Wardens?" the older of the two soldiers asked. Darcy and Alistair nodded.

"The Darkspawn have taken the tower. They dug a tunnel underground and came out inside the tower. They have been wreaking havoc in there since the battle started. We were lucky to get out."

"Are you the only two who made it out of the tower?" Darcy asked, her eyebrows pulled down low and her forehead was creased in a frown.

"No, there is a circle mage here as well; he was fighting a larger group of 'spawn to the left side of the tower earlier." The younger of the two soldiers said. He had a large cut across his right cheek that wouldn't stop bleeding.

"I am Darcy and this is Alistair, we were sent to light the signal at the top of the tower."

The older soldier nodded his head and pointed to his companion. "This is Deane and I am Kendyll, how can we aid you in your task?"

Darcy looked them over with a critical eye. Apart from the long cut across Deane's cheek, it didn't seem that they were seriously hurt.

"Deane, would you please locate the Circle Mage and bring him here, Teebone will accompany you."

Deane gave the Mabari a wary look, but nodded his consent and set off towards where he had last seen the mage fight.

Darcy took her small pack from her lower back and opened it to assess the amount of healing poultices in their possession; thankful of her obsession to always pack more than was needed. Satisfied that they would not run out if their supply was used sparingly, she closed her pack and placed it back in its spot on her lower back.

"How many do you think are there inside?" she asked Kendyll.

"They are many; they overran the tower in minutes after breaking through the ground."

"Great, just what we need." Alistair scoffed and kicked at a loose rock with his boot.

"I remember you complaining that you won't be part of the action. Are you now saying that you were just talking big?" Darcy looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, I guess you're right. I'll stop complaining now." Alistair looked down at his boots again. In truth, he was still annoyed at being slapped so hard across the face by Darcy. It really stung! He rubbed his cheek absentmindedly.

Darcy smiled at the action and then turned her attention back at Kendyll. "Are you able to accompany us?"

"If that is what you need of me then my sword is yours," Kendyll said.

Just then, Deane and the Circle Mage arrived. They were both out of breath, but uninjured.

"Deane, are you able to accompany us? I see you use dual weaponry as well, it would come in very useful."

"I would accompany you, my lady."

Darcy gave a half smile, "Darcy is acceptable, and I am not a lady."

She turned to the mage next. He stepped forwards to introduce himself.

"I am Hector Freelove, Enchanter for the Circle of Magi."

"Pleased to meet you, Hector, I am Darcy and this is Alistair. I understand that you have already met Deane and Kendyll. We are the Grey Wardens sent to light the signal at the top of the tower. You would do the Wardens a great service if you would aid us in our task."

Hector bowed slightly, "It would be an honour."

Darcy nodded and looked from one companion to another. They all looked at her expectantly.

"When we go into that tower we will be going into the unknown. From your own reports you have told me that the tower is overrun. Our goal is to light the signal at the top of the tower no matter what. We cannot fight every single Darkspawn, otherwise we will lose more time. It will be a race to the top of the tower. I do not want you to be under the illusion that we will make it out of the tower safely." She paused meeting each man's eyes in turn. They all nodded their understanding.

"Very well; Kendyll you and Deane should stay close to each other. Kendyll, concentrate on those enemies directly ahead of you and let Deane stop any enemies that try to flank you. Alistair I want you to use the same technique as Kendyll and I will stay close to you. Hector, I need you to stay behind us and use ranged attacks, but be careful using large destructive power close to us. If you can, hit them before they get too close to us. Do you have any healing power?"

Hector looked apologetic, "I am sorry, I am unfortunately not a healer, but I am able to use a good rejuvenation spell."

Darcy nodded, "That will do. If you see one of us tiring please use your rejuvenation spell."

Hector nodded.

"Very well, are you all clear in what you must do? Just remember, we must light that signal, that is our only goal."

"We are ready," Alistair said followed by agreements from the rest and a confirmative bark from Teebone.

* * *

The tower had been everything Darcy had feared; it was teeming with Darkspawn. The ground level had several large groups of 'spawn that they had no choice but to dispose off before moving on. The Darkspawn seemed to hide in every nook and cranny and every door they passed would fling open and out would come even more Darkspawn. They fought non-stop; progressing slowly onwards and upwards. They were exhausted, but they could not stop fighting. They had finally managed to reach the second floor, but they were one man down. Deane had taken an arrow straight through the throat. There was nothing any of them could do. Darcy had silently added some wintersweet sap into Deane's water bottle and administered it to him. It was the most humane thing she could do for him. The wintersweet would slow his heart rate and he would slip into a coma and die. Alistair had frowned at her when he realised what else she was carrying in her pack, but he had said nothing.

They had just hacked their way through several more rooms full of Darkspawn when they entered a large room with several cages lining the walls. Deep rumbling growls could be heard from within the cages which contained very angry Mabari. The door on the other side of the room opened with a splintering crash and another large group of Darkspawn came running towards them. A well placed fire ball from Hector thinned out the attacking horde, but it didn't slow them down.

"Keep them busy!" Darcy shouted and then ran towards the left side of the room; cutting down two 'spawn as she went.

"Sure," Alistair said. It wasn't as if he would be able to convince her to stay put. The woman had no sense of danger.

Darcy was worried about the number of Darkspawn filling the room. They were all tired and she had seen the mage down at least three lyrium potions; it meant that he was tiring too. She hoped that what she was about to do wasn't going to come back and bite her in the rear, but they could do with a few more allies. Swiftly dodging another attack she cut down the 'spawn in front of her. Stepping over the fallen body she approached the first Mabari cage. The dog's ears lay flat against its skull and it bared its teeth at her. She spoke softly and soothingly at the scared dog. Her brother had been one of the country's finest Mabari breeders; she knew how to handle these noble beasts.

"I need your help to slay the enemy. I will open your cage and you will be free to attack the Darkspawn."

The Mabari's ears perked at her voice and its soulful brown eyes met hers in acknowledgement. Darcy opened the cage, "I will free your brothers and sisters as well."

The Mabari barked once and then launched itself into the fray. Darcy moved to the next cage and opened it. Now that one dog knew what it must do, the others would follow. She ran swiftly down the left side of the room and opened the cages. When she opened the last cage, the Mabari flung itself out of the cage and locked its massive jaw onto the arm of a Darkspawn that had managed to creep up on Darcy whilst she was busy opening the cage. The 'spawn was dead in seconds.

"You have my thanks," Darcy nodded at the beast and then made her way to the other side of the room.

There were fewer cages on this side of the room and so it took less time to open them. Job done, she made her way back towards where she had left Alistair and her other companions. With the Mabari aiding in their fight, they soon gained the upper hand and the number of Darkspawn mercifully dwindled down to only a few. Leaving the Mabari pack to kill the last straggling 'spawn; the small group finally made their way up to the top level of the tower.

The first thing that Darcy noticed upon entering the top level of the tower was how devoid of Darkspawn it was. The second thing that Darcy noticed was the very large ogre that stood in the middle of the circular room; feeding on the remains of a soldier.

"Holy Maker have mercy," Alistair said staring at the beast.

"Sweet Andraste," Kendyll murmured; eyes wide with terror.

A blazing fireball roared past their heads and landed just below the brute's shoulder. It roared in pain and dropped its quarry before turning its attention towards the small group.

_Fool! _Darcy thought at Hector, what was the man thinking!

"Don't let it come near enough to grab you; it will crush you like a bug," Alistair shouted and sprang into action; sword and shield at the ready.

Kendyll followed suit and, together he and Alistair jabbed and sliced at the Ogre's lower limbs whilst Hector continued to blast it with fire and ice spells. It charged at the three men with a frustrating roar and they had to leap out of the way to avoid its grasping hands. Teebone was barking furiously nipping at the beast's heels enraging it further. Darcy had kept perfectly still, assessing the scene in front of her. Once or twice she heard Alistair calling her name, probably wondering why she was not doing anything to help, but Darcy watched and waited.

Her chance came when Hector threw a particularly nasty paralysis spell at the Ogre which hit it mid-chest. The moment the spell hit was the moment that Darcy moved towards the creature. She only had a brief window of opportunity; a paralysis spell would not last long on a creature this big. With both her swords in hand she made a running jump towards the creature from behind and slammed her swords hilt deep into its back. Then, pulling first one sword out and then the other she stabbed higher up the Ogres back; pulling herself up. She repeated the action until she reached its shoulders. The beast was starting to move again. From somewhere down below someone was shouting at her, but she ignored them. Finding the small protrusion behind the well armoured skull plates that served as an ear; she plunged one of her swords through the tiny hole, thrusting with all her might. The Ogre gave an ear-splitting roar and tried to grab at its ear. Darcy moved swiftly and plunged her other sword deep into the creature's neck. Pulling the sword out again, she repeated the action. Arcs of blood spurted from the wounds and the creature started falling backwards. Seeing no other option; Darcy pushed away from the Ogre and landed with a hard thump against the stone wall.

For a moment everything was quiet. Darcy lay motionless; trying to fight for her breath that was knocked out of her from the impact with the wall.

"Darcy, Darcy are you alright?" Alistair's worried voice brought her back to the present.

"M'fine," Darcy mumbled weakly and struggled to sit up. The room spun dangerously and she groaned; dropping her head onto her knees.

"Are you sure, that was quite a hit."

"Yes, I'm fine. Has someone lit the signal? It's probably too late, but it needs to be lit anyway." Darcy forced her head to stop spinning and tried to get up. A strong arm curled around her waist and the other pulled her arm over broad shoulders as Alistair helped her to stand. The cool sensation of a rejuvenation spell coursed through her and she nodded her thanks towards Hector; forgetting that she wanted to tear him a new one for so carelessly attacking an Ogre.

"Hector lit the signal, but when we looked down towards where Loghain and his men were supposed to be waiting, there was no one. Do you suppose Loghain gave up waiting and just attacked when he thought it was time?" Alistair looked hopefully at her.

Darcy got a horrible suspicious feeling, but she shrugged it off. It had taken them very long to reach the top of the tower. It had certainly been more than an hour. Darcy hoped that Loghain had indeed taken initiative and attacked. The alternative was just too horrible to contemplate.

"I'm sure that is what happened," she said to Alistair.

A low growl came from the direction of Teebone. The Mabari had its hackles raised and its ears lay flat against its head.

"What is it boy?" Darcy asked and looked in the direction the dog was facing. The soft whoosh of an arrow was all warning Darcy had before she could react. An arrow protruded from the base of Kendyll's neck. He stared at her with horror in his eyes before he collapsed on the floor. Another soft twang as a bow released its arrow and Hector dropped to the floor with an arrow embedded in his chest. It all happened so fast. Another twang, but this time Darcy had seen the Darkspawn archer and it had aimed straight at Alistair. Darcy didn't think. She slammed her body into Alistair, pushing him down. A sharp pain lanced her shoulder as the barbed arrow lodged itself in her flesh. Darcy wasn't able to move fast enough and another arrow hit her square in the chest. She gasped for breath once, twice as she sagged to her knees. From far away she could hear Alistair shouting. Another figure stepped into her view. Darcy watched as it started to chant and release a spell at her. Her final thoughts as the spell hit her was that she would not be able to keep her promise to Duncan. She had not been able to keep Alistair safe after all. She had failed in her duty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all for reading.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

_The sound of water trickling gently over river stones softly wakes her. She is lying in a meadow of soft grass, under a cherry tree that was in full bloom. Pink blossoms drifts slowly down towards the earth as a gentle breeze rustles through the leaves. Peaceful, so peaceful she thinks. She does not care where she is or why she is here; she cannot remember where she was before. All she cares about is this feeling of peace that envelopes her in a soft embrace. She sits up slowly and looks about her. _

_A small stream lies before her and in the distance a mountain range fills the horizon. Snow white lilies grow close to the stream's edge. This place is so beautiful. She stands up and takes a tentative step towards the stream. The scent of the lilies is a heady aroma in the air. Bending down at the stream's edge, she dips her fingers in the clear, cool water and then brings the tips of her fingers to her mouth to taste the sweet droplets. Sweet, jubilant laughter attracts her attention. A small boy is running on the other side of the stream being chased by a woman; his mother? The woman quickly catches up with the boy and folds him in her arms. The boy lets out a squeal of pleasure and throws his hands around his mother's neck. She stares transfixed by the beautiful scene. The boy turns his head and meets her gaze. A smile spreads across his face and she realises that she knows this boy._

_"Oren," she whispers and stretches out her hand towards him. The boy laughs again and runs away from his mother once more. Her breath catches in her throat._

_"Oriana," she takes step towards them, but the stream now suddenly seems like a river and it stops her from crossing._

_Another figure slowly follows in the wake of the other two. She is older than the other woman and she wears a tender smile on her lips as she watches Oren run and play._

_"Mother," she is shouting now. Why do they not stop? Why do they not see me?_

_Every time she tries to cross to the other side of the river, it seems to widen. Tears of frustration roll down her face as she watches the figures of her family get smaller and smaller. _

_"Why do you cry, Pup?" a deep male voice speaks behind her._

_She turns at the sound of his voice, "Father!" _

_She runs towards him and flings her arms around his neck. Hot tears stream down her face as she cries into his shoulder. Her father holds her gently and strokes her hair like he always did when she was upset._

_"You must not cry, Pup."_

_"Father, why can I not cross the river to join Mother and the others; they look so happy."_

_"They are happy Pup, but where they are you cannot go; not yet. You have a duty to fulfil, do you not remember?"_

_Slowly memory seeps into her mind. She remembers everything; her duty to seek justice for her family, her task to keep Alistair safe, all this she remembers and she hangs her head in shame._

_"I have failed in my duty, Father." _

_A soft chuckle elicits from deep within his chest and he gently lifts her chin so that she can look into his clear grey eyes. _

_"You have not failed, Pup. Your journey is only now beginning. Do not hold on to the past; it will only make you stumble and trip. You have always been strong-willed. Let it guide you and listen to your heart; for your heart will always be true. Remember this, Pup and you will not fail in your duty."_

_"Father, I want to stay here. Here it is peaceful and safe. Can I not stay here with you?"_

_"No, Pup, you must go. Go now and live."_

_The image of her father seems to blur along with the stream and the mountains. The scene is fading and she desperately tries to grasp her father's hand, but all she grasps is air._

* * *

Darcy opened her eyes and took a shuddering breath; her vision blurry, so she blinked them a few times before they focused properly. Her throat was parched and she tried to swallow but her tongue just stuck to the roof of her mouth. "Ugh," she groaned. Taking a closer look at her surroundings she realised that the room she was in was unfamiliar to her.

In the dim light that seeped in through the shutters covering the window, she could see a smallish sized room with a dirt-packed floor and thatched roof. The raw beams that supported the roof also served as hanging space for drying herbs; their pungent smell lay thick in the air. Directly across from the bed she lay on stood a large bookshelf laden with heavy leather bound books and old tomes. To the right of her hung a makeshift room-divider made of various animal skins, behind which stood another bed. To the left of her bed was the hearth and a crudely crafted wooden table, laden with small bottles, vials and a myriad ingredients; a book lay propped open with a heavy jar of something that looked a bit like strawberry jam and on the hearth a large black iron pot stood bubbling.

A door squeaked open next to her, startling her and making her jump. Darcy winced at her aching, protesting muscles; her shoulder felt stiff and when she brought her hand to it, she could feel a thick layer of bandages that wrapped around it.

"You are awake," a familiar sounding voice spoke. The woman did not wait for a reply, but simply made her way over to the bubbling pot on the hearth.

Snippets of memory returned to Darcy as she watched the woman stir the pot with a wooden spoon. Pale yellow eyes turned to regard her as Darcy tried to sit up slowly; her head was spinning and she had to take a deep breath to stop her stomach from rioting.

"You have been asleep for some time," the woman spoke again. She had stopped stirring the pot and was now filling a mug with water from a small jug. She walked over to Darcy and held it out to her, "Here."

Darcy took the mug from the woman's hands and drank thirstily; the sweet cool water soothing her dry, raspy throat.

"Th-thank you," Darcy managed to croak out her thanks, finally. She looked more closely at the woman. She was sure she remembered the shiny, pitch-black hair, the haughty pull at her mouth and those pale yellow eyes. She scanned her fragmented memories for a name.

"Morrigan?"

The woman smiled, "So you remember me; that is good. What else do you remember?"

Darcy frowned in concentration, "Darkspawn, thousands of Darkspawn, a tower, Ogre...Alistair!" She frantically looked about her to see if he was somewhere in the room and she had missed him.

"Do not exert yourself; he is outside waiting for you. He will be pleased to see you; hopefully now the snivelling idiot will stop his incessant wailing."

Darcy felt herself relax a little, "What happened?"

"Your army lost the battle, the King and the Grey Warden Commander is dead."

Darcy's eyes went wide in shock, "The General? Loghain?"

"Split the field, and ran back to Denerim with his men."

"No, we lit the signal. We were late, but we lit the signal, he would not have..."

"I assure you, the so-called General left the battlefield long before the signal was lit."

Darcy did not know what to make of this, "Then they are all...?"

"They are all dead."

Darcy hung her head; fighting against the tears that pricked behind her eyelids.

"If you are well, my mother would like to see you. She is waiting for you outside."

Darcy nodded her thanks and slowly inched her way off the bed. She was a little unsteady on her feet, but after a few minutes, she found that she could move around if she did it very slowly. She glanced about her for her armour, but could not find it. Before she could open her mouth to ask where it could be, Morrigan pointed to a large wooden chest that stood at the foot end of the bed.

"Your things are in there," she said and proceeded to add more ingredients to the pot on the hearth.

Darcy was in the middle of pulling on her leather trousers, when something occurred to her. Frowning she glanced over at Morrigan who was now idly paging through the book that had been lying open on the table.

"Morrigan, we were at the top of the tower when we fell to the Darkspawn,"

Morrigan looked at her; waiting expectantly for Darcy to continue.

"Yes," she said, when it looked like Darcy wasn't going to say anything else.

Darcy frowned and canted her head to the right as she contemplated the situation.

"If we were up there, then how did we get down here?"

"Well, if you must know," Morrigan sighed heavily and closed the book with a loud snap and placed it back on the overflowing table.

"Mother turned into a dragon, flew up to the top of the tower and grabbed you in her claws just before the Darkspawn could injure you any further," Morrigan's mouth quirked slightly at the edges as she watched the smaller woman process this information.

Darcy did not know what to make of this titbit of information and she found herself staring stupidly at Morrigan, mouth agape and trousers forgotten.

"She what?"

"It is quite true, although I am sure that Mother could relate the story to you far better than I could. Perhaps you should ask her?" Morrigan quirked her eyebrow and looked pointedly at Darcy's leather trousers that were still hanging on her knees.

Darcy blinked and nodded her head, "Yes perhaps that is for the best."

Darcy hastily finished dressing and walked towards the door where she paused and looked back at Morrigan.

"Thank you."

Morrigan looked up in surprise, "Whatever for?"

"For rescuing us and healing my wounds," Darcy smiled.

"I – 'tis nothing; Mother did all the work, you should be thanking her."

Morrigan dismissed Darcy with a wave of her hand; feeling a little bit flustered at being thanked. This Darcy was certainly a surprising individual; it was no wonder that her mother was so interested in the girl.

Darcy had to shut her eyes for a moment as the bright afternoon sun hit her face when she exited the tiny hut. Morrigan's mother was sitting in a shaded area outside the hut. She was busy crushing dried leaves in a large bowl; she looked up when she saw Darcy exited.

"Ah, you are awake at last," the gravelly voice reached her.

"Yes, thank you, Maiara." Darcy inclined her head respectfully.

The older woman's eyes could have widened in surprise at the Chasind term she used to address her, but Darcy just wasn't sure.

"That is an interesting name you use for me," Darcy felt as if she was trapped under the gaze of those yellow eyes that looked so much like Morrigan's.

"It is the Chasind name for 'Wise Woman', is it not?" Darcy asked.

"And do you think me wise, child?" Darcy knew the woman was playing with her.

"I believe that you are something. As I have said before, I cannot judge you on appearances alone, but I do know that you are a Witch of the Wild."

"You do not believe that I am Flemeth?"

Darcy was beginning to tire of this game.

"Whether I believe or not, some things must simply be accepted."

Flemeth chuckled, "Ah, an open mind, so refreshing to find one not made of mush."

"Morrigan says that I have you to thank for our timely rescue." Darcy was not going to allude to the whole turning into a dragon thing; she was hoping that Flemeth would.

"Yes, indeed; it was most certainly timely. You had suffered some very serious injuries. It is interesting that Alistair barely had a scratch on him."

So she was going to avoid the whole dragon thing then. Fine, then she will avoid the whole throwing herself in front of Alistair thing.

"Perhaps it was because I was struck first and your timely appearance saved him from being hurt more."

Flemeth smiled a knowing smile, "Perhaps."

"Morrigan says that the battle was lost, that Loghain had deserted the battlefield."

"Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Are you really so surprised that he deserted the battlefield, or are you denying what you already knew from the start?"

Darcy frowned; if she had to be really honest with herself, she had known. Duncan had known too.

"I see that you did indeed know of his treason."

Darcy nodded, but did not speak. There was something else she wanted to ask the witch, but she did not know how.

"Something troubles you, child."

The woman's yellow stare really unsettled her, but she carefully hid this fact from Flemeth; even though she was sure that it would not help.

"I was wondering if...my brother was scouting the Wilds before the battle. I do not know if he still lives."

A slow smile spread across Flemeth's face.

"I see. I think, dear child, that you have far greater things to concern yourself with just now. Do not fret over things that you can do nothing about. Your brother is either dead or he is alive, either way, there is nothing you can do about it."

Darcy could feel her temper rising. How dare this woman say such things of her brother! She closed her eyes and tried to tamp down the anger that had flared to life.

Flemeth was still smiling, "I think you should go find your companion; he is most anxious about you."

Darcy nodded simply and walked towards the trees where she had seen Alistair standing earlier. He must have been upset, because he still hadn't noticed her.

"When life's path is steep, keep your mind even." Flemeth's words followed her.

_I'm trying, _she thought.

* * *

**Maiara is Native American (Tupi) and it means 'wise.' At least, that is what Google and a website called behindthename says. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi folks, thank you for reading. I'm posting three chapters today, but that's because I probably won't be able to update again until mid to late March. My first deadline is coming up soon, so I need to focus my attention on my course work for now. I have come to the conclusion that fight scenes are ridiculously difficult to write, so I hope I did it justice. Some feedback/reviews would be nice. Well, here goes... -Rosie-**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

He stood in the shade of a large tree on the very fringe of the forest. His face was pale and drawn and his eyes were puffy and red from crying. His whole demeanour was that of a man defeated; his shoulders drooped and he stared into space as he absently stroked the large head of the Mabari at his side. He did not notice Darcy until Teebone pulled away from his hand and ran to meet his mistress. He watched, dazed, as the giant hound knocked the small woman over with a loud 'umph!'

"Ouch! Down Teebone, down boy. Yes, I am happy to see you too." Darcy scratched the hound behind his ears for a bit before getting up and dusting herself off.

She walked slowly over to Alistair who was staring at her as if he couldn't believe she was really there.

"Alistair?" she called his name gently and placed her hand on his upper arm.

It was as if he snapped out of a trance the moment he felt her touch. He gasped and grabbed her close to him in a crushing hug.

"I thought you were going to die too," his voice was hoarse with emotion.

"I didn't; I'm still here. Alistair..."

"Yes?"

"Can you let go now? You're crushing me just a little bit."

"Oh, sorry," Alistair let her go.

"It's okay, I'm just a little fragile at the moment." She winced as she rotated her throbbing shoulder.

"Duncan's dead, they're all dead."

The lost and broken look in his eyes made Darcy's heart ache. She wished she could say the right words to make it all better, but she knew what it was to lose your family. Instead she opted for silent support, held his hand and patted his shoulder in comfort.

"Do you really think Loghain quit the field? Do you really think he would do that; betray his king?"

Darcy sighed, "Yes, I really think he did."

"But, why? I don't understand why he would do such a thing. Loghain was King Maric's right hand man."

"That's just it, Alistair. Loghain was _King Maric's_ right hand man. From what I saw of Loghain during the war council, he didn't think much of the son at all. Loghain thought that Cailan was a fool. He made a big production of how King Cailan couldn't trust the Wardens and that Orlais posed the bigger threat. It's not really so surprising that he decided to take matters into his own hands."

Alistair let out his breath in a big sigh and ran his hands over his face.

"None of this seems real. How did we even get out of that tower? And you..."

Alistair looked at her with his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a thin line.

"You pushed me out of the way and took an arrow that was meant for me, why?"

Darcy looked down at her feet. She couldn't tell him of her orders.

"I would have done it for anyone, don't make an issue out of it," she mumbled.

Pulling Alistair by the arm; Darcy started walking back towards the hut.

"Come on, we need to eat something and then decide on what to do next."

* * *

"Ah, good you are back and I see that blubbering fool has followed you." Morrigan gave Alistair a haughty glare as she ladled spoonfuls of hot, steaming stew into some wooden bowls.

"Hey, I'm not a blubbering fool; you're mean. What's in this witches brew of yours anyway; spider eggs and rats' tails?" Alistair picked up a bowl and sniffed it suspiciously.

"It's rabbit," Darcy said quickly before it could escalate into an argument.

Morrigan huffed and crossed her arms. Her nose was wrinkled in distaste as she watched Alistair scoff down his bowl of stew. She huffed again and tapped her foot impatiently when Alistair licked his fingers and then glanced about to see if there was more stew to be had. He paused when he saw Morrigan's disapproving glare. Darcy was studiously ignoring them; paying close attention to each bite of stew she was eating.

"What?" Alistair asked innocently when Morrigan huffed again.

"Animals eat outside," she hissed and pointed to the door. Alistair glanced around the room looking for something, then looked back at Morrigan shrugging his shoulders.

"I think Teebone is already outside."

"That hound has more manners than you could ever hope to have!"

Alistair narrowed his eyes at Morrigan and stuck his bottom lip out like a petulant child.

"It's official, I don't like you."

"Gah! I refuse to linger in your presence any longer." Morrigan stalked towards the door, but paused and turned to Darcy.

"When you have finished your meal, Mother would like to speak with you."

Darcy nodded silently and continued eating her stew as the door slammed loudly shut behind Morrigan. Alistair got up and filled his bowl with another helping of stew before sitting down at the table again.

"You know, you could have come to my defence just a little bit," he pouted.

Darcy's mouth plucked up at the corners in a restrained smile, "I'm staying out of whatever it is that's going on between the two of you. Although, I would remind you that we are guests here and we owe our lives to Morrigan and her mother, so, be nice."

"But she's so mean," he complained.

Darcy got up and taking her empty bowl with her, she walked over to a large urn and scooped some water into a larger wash bowl and washed up her dishes. She placed her clean bowl back on the table next to some others and walked to the door .

"Are you coming?" She left Alistair to pout alone and went to find Flemeth.

The sun was sitting lower in the sky and long shadows stretched across the ground. It would be dark soon. The low murmur of voices to her left, led Darcy to where Morrigan and her mother where talking quietly together. They stopped as soon as Darcy came within hearing range.

"Ah, there you are. I hope the meal was to your liking? Morrigan is a good cook," Flemeth looked over Darcy's shoulder and frowned.

"Where is your fellow Warden? There are important things we must discuss."

"Probably still stuffing his face full of stew," Morrigan scoffed.

Darcy didn't know what the two of them had been discussing, but Morrigan looked decidedly unhappy over it.

"I'll have Teebone get him."

Darcy put two fingers between her lips and gave two short, sharp whistles. Moments later, the Mabari came bounding out of the woods and made a beeline for her. Darcy braced herself for impact just as the hound leaped towards her and knocked her over. She covered her face with her arms in an attempt to keep his slobbering tongue from reaching her, but it was in vain; the whole left side of her face was covered in slobber.

"Easy boy, let me up," she giggled and managed to get into a kneeling position in front of Teebone. Scratching his ears and patting his side, she praised him for being a good dog.

"Teebone, listen." The Mabari's ears pricked up and he stood stock still as he listened to his mistress' command.

"Go fetch Alistair, boy. Go fetch Alistair." Teebone gave a short bark in the affirmative and bounded over to the hut just as Alistair stepped out of the door.

Alistair was, of course, knocked off his feet. After a few moments he managed to disentangle himself from Teebone and get up. Teebone jumped and barked all around him until he started walking towards where the three women were stood watching.

"You know, you really have to teach that dog not to knock people over like that," Alistair said to Darcy as he dusted himself off. Teebone growled softly in defiance and plopped down in the shade of a nearby tree with a huff.

"He only does that with people he really likes," Darcy said; barely containing her smile.

"I'm honoured, really," he said drily.

"Well, now that you are both here, we can discuss what you will do next," Flemeth said in a very businesslike tone.

"What do you mean? There is nothing to discuss. There are no more Wardens and Loghain is sitting on the throne, turning a blind eye on the Darkspawn and fretting over Orlesians who couldn't care less about Ferelden at this point in time." Alistair looked from Darcy to Flemeth and back again; frowning.

"The Wardens are not all gone; you and your companion are still here."

Alistair snorted.

"Oh great, two Wardens against the Archdemon and his horde of Darkspawn; watch them quiver in fear as we slay them by the thousands with one swing of our mighty blades!"

Flemeth arched an eyebrow at him, "Indeed, that would be impressive, but I was thinking along the lines of getting allies to join your cause."

Darcy's eyes lit up at the mention of allies.

"Of course, the treaties! We will simply go and deliver the treaties ourselves; they have to honour it."

Darcy felt a trickle of hope for the first time since she opened her eyes inside the little hut. She grinned excitedly at Alistair, but he didn't return her smile.

"Alistair?"

"Duncan had the treaties."

Darcy's smile faltered. He was right; Duncan had the treaties and now they were probably lost somewhere in the ruins of Ostagar. Without the treaties they could not rely on any allies. Darcy's hope evaporated as quickly as it had started. Back to square one.

"Looking for this?" Flemeth produced the packet of yellowed vellum documents, still tied up with string from a pocket in her leather skirt.

"But that's...How did you...Where did you...But we..." Alistair seemed to want to get all his questions out at the same time. Darcy just stood speechless and Flemeth snorted; looking amused.

"I thought they might be needed and since I was in the area..." Flemeth left her sentence unfinished.

Alistair's eyes narrowed, "You knew what was going to happen, didn't you? You could have said something, you could have warned us!"

"To what end? Things play out the way they do for a reason; who am I to interfere?"

"Then why rescue us from the tower? If we were meant to die..."

"You were not meant to die in the tower; your destiny lies elsewhere," Flemeth cut him short; her eyes flashing dangerously. Darcy thought it was time to step in.

"Alistair, we have more important things to worry about right now. We have the treaties and it is our duty as Grey Wardens to unite the people against the Blight."

They stared at each other for a long time; each recognising the impossible task that lay before them and each accepting what they must do.

"So, can we do this; raise an army?" Alistair asked softly.

"We have to try," Darcy said; determination ringing clear in her voice.

"So, then it is decided. You will go and gather an army of elves, dwarves and mages to fight against the Archdemon." Flemeth nodded as she looked at Darcy and Alistair in turn. Darcy wasn't sure, but the old woman looked almost smug.

"We should leave at dawn. We can get supplies in Lothering; I believe that is the closest settlement to the Kochari Wilds." Darcy looked to Alistair and he nodded in agreement.

"Then I suggest you start preparing for your journey," Flemeth said as she walked past them towards the hut. Morrigan followed, looking surly and avoided looking at either of the two Wardens.

Sleep did not come easily for Darcy that night. Her mind was a maelstrom of questions. She thought long and hard on the old woman, Flemeth. Darcy doubted that she was simply helping them out of the goodness of her heart. No, she definitely had an ulterior motive, but Darcy couldn't even begin to fathom what it could be. She suspected that Morrigan had a part to play as well. She sighed, trying to get more comfortable on the hard ground and wished that she was back at Castle Cousland in her own, soft bed. A pang of guilt gnawed at her as an image of her brother drifted into her consciousness. Staring at the stars glittering above her, she sent a silent prayer to the Maker to keep her brother safe and vowed to find him when this was all over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Bioware owns Dragon age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

It was a quiet group that made their way through the Wilds at dawn. It came as no surprise to Darcy that Morrigan had joined them. Flemeth had innocently explained that it would be beneficial to them if Morrigan went along too. She had an extensive knowledge of Ferelden flora, which meant that healing poultices and such would no longer be a concern. Add to that the fact that she was a gifted mage and Darcy had to agree that having Morrigan along wouldn't be such a bad idea. Alistair had protested loudly, but was unanimously ignored by all.

Chaos greeted them as they finally entered Lothering. A large refugee camp lay to one side of the settlement; small makeshift tents littered the field closest to the town. The town centre was a hive of activity. Everywhere people were busy loading carts and wagons with their precious belongings. Small clusters of people were gathered near shops or in the street talking amongst themselves; the looks of worry obvious on their faces. A steady stream of people flowed out of the town, leaving for Redcliffe or Denerim. Dirty children played a game of tag; giggling and weaving in and out between the legs of the adults.

"I guess they've heard about the Darkspawn problem," Alistair said; sidestepping a little boy that came barrelling past them.

"Ah yes, another pointless observation from the travelling buffoon." Morrigan sneered. Darcy rolled her eyes and clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from knocking their heads together. The two of them had been bickering like two three year olds ever since leaving Flemeth's hut that morning.

"I'm not a buffoon; I was simply thinking out loud," Alistair huffed.

"Thinking Alistair? I did not know you were capable of such a thing. Truly, I am impressed."

"I'll have you know that the Chantry expected their Templars to be well educated. I'm not as stupid as you think I am; I studied history."

"Well, good for you, the Chantry must have been so proud to have you."

"Have I told you recently just how much I hate you?"

"Enough!" Darcy growled looking at her two companions.

"You two are like three year old children. I am done listening to the two of you degrade and belittle each other. There is a merchant over there near the refugee camp, why don't the two of you go and see if you can get us a good deal on some supplies." She pointed towards a large oxcart standing off to one side; a few people were clustered around the merchant, so Darcy could not see what he looked like.

"Where are you going?" Alistair pouted.

"I am going to find out if there is somewhere for us to stay the night and catch up on news." Darcy didn't wait for Alistair to respond. Instead, she whistled for Teebone and headed in the opposite direction.

She didn't run very far, when she almost collided with a heavily armoured Templar.

"Oh, I am so sorry," Darcy apologized feeling a little flustered that she didn't see him standing there.

"No need to apologize; you seem to be in a hurry." He smiled down at her. He was really tall and Darcy had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. He had dark brown hair and rich, chocolate-brown eyes.

"Not really, running just seemed like the best form of escape at the time." She smiled.

"Escape?" The Templar's brow pulled together in confusion.

"I needed a break from the constant bickering," she said and gestured towards the merchant's cart where Alistair and Morrigan stood. Sure enough, they were still bickering; judging by Alistair's wild hand gestures and Morrigan's angry glares.

"That's as good an excuse as any," he chuckled.

"I am Ser Bryant," he introduced himself offering his hand in greeting.

"I'm Darcy," she accepted his hand in a firm grasp and shook it.

"Are you passing through? I don't think I have seen you here before." He was scrutinizing her closely, which made Darcy feel a little anxious. She had yet to learn what Loghain had said about the battle, but she was almost certain that Grey Wardens were not going to be welcomed with open arms.

"We are on our way to Redcliffe. I thought I would see if we could get some lodgings for tonight."

"Where did you come from? From the looks of you and your companions, you aren't exactly farmers, are you." Ser Bryant was still watching her very closely.

Darcy could not tell from his posture whether he meant to do her harm or not; his expression remained soft and friendly and his stance was relaxed. Still, Darcy wasn't going to take any chances. If his hand so much as twitched towards his blade, she would be ready.

"We are survivors from the battle at Ostagar," she told him truthfully. He nodded as if this was something he already expected.

"Ah, then it is with regret that I have to inform you that you will probably not find lodgings in town tonight, but, if you speak to Danal at Dane's Refuge, he might be able to provide you and your companions with a hot meal. I'm afraid that is all that there is to offer in Lothering at the moment." Ser Bryant smiled ruefully.

"That is more than what I would have expected. Thank you, Ser Bryant, your help is appreciated." Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then I bid you good day, my lady," Ser Bryant bowed and started walking away. He didn't walk far before he paused and walked back towards Darcy; a worried look etched deep into his brow.

Standing very close, he spoke quietly; his tone urgent, "I would not linger in this town, Warden, there are those who believe that the Grey Wardens are to blame for the king's death. Loghain has put a bounty on your heads; be careful."

Darcy nodded her head in acknowledgement, "Thank you," she said as Ser Bryant walked away from her once more.

Well, it was as she had suspected it might be. Loghain was not going to make this easy for her and Alistair; they would have to be careful around towns and cities. She hoped that Arl Aemon would be able to help them when they got to Redcliffe. It had been Alistair's suggestion to seek the Arl's help and Darcy had thought it was a good idea. Having the support of an Arl could only be beneficial to their cause.

Dane's Refuge was packed. Darcy ordered Teebone to stay outside and entered the inn. She managed to make her way to the bar after nearly being trampled on once or twice.

"What can I get fer ya?" A broad-shouldered man in his late forties with dark brown hair and a bushy moustache looked at her expectantly.

"Are you Danal?" Darcy asked.

"Who wants to know?" he asked gruffly.

"Ser Bryant mentioned that I needed to speak to Danal about acquiring a hot meal for myself and my companions tonight."

"Hmmm," he grunted and nodded his head.

"My name's Danal, and this here's my place. I can give you a hot meal fer two silvers a person, but don't bother asking fer lodgings 'cause I don't have any."

"Thank you, ser, I will be back with my companions for the evening meal." Darcy smiled at the man and then started making her way through the crowd towards the door once more.

Outside, Teebone barked happily at her in greeting.

"Well, at least we won't have to eat stale bread and hard cheese for our dinner tonight. Come on, let's go and save Alistair from Morrigan before she really turns him into a frog." Darcy scratched the Mabari behind his ears before walking in the direction of the merchant's wagon.

* * *

Darcy had almost reached the merchant's wagon when a huge commotion coming from the opposite direction caught her attention. A prison wagon was drawing a large crowd of people. Darcy made her way back over the bridge and past Danes Refuge; joining the gathering crowd. There were three haggard-looking men inside the prison wagon. All three looked liked they had a thorough beating. Two of the men looked to be in their thirties, but the third was a young man that looked as if he had barely left boyhood behind. Darcy thought that he must have been a year or two younger than she was. His face was badly beaten with a split top lip and a badly swollen right eye. A cut above his left eyebrow was still weeping blood. One of the older men looked like he was missing half his teeth and some of his right earlobe. The other man's face was less bruised, but his right arm hung limp at his side and the ripped sleeve of his tunic was drenched in blood.

Darcy turned her attention to the four armed men that had been escorting the prison wagon. All four men looked like seasoned fighters - mercenaries. They held the stance of men who were always ready for a fight; they seemed relaxed, but their hands were never far from their weapons. Darcy noticed how one of the men, a big burly man with large muscular arms, constantly scanned the crowd for potential danger. They obviously loved the attention they were getting from the crowd that had gathered. One of them, a little younger than the others was strutting about like a male peacock showing off his tail feathers. He paused in front of a young woman and whispered something in her ear that made her blush; he was very confident of himself, too confident.

A heart-wrenching cry came from somewhere at the back of the crowd; it quickly parted to reveal a woman in her late forties, perhaps early fifties, clutching at a younger woman for comfort and crying bitterly.

"That's my son, you can't take my son!" She cried.

A smaller figure stepped out from behind the two women. He was a bit on the skinny side, but his movements were lithe and cat-like in grace. His bright blue eyes and pale skin was in high contrast with his jet-black hair. His features were contorted in utter rage as he walked towards the four armed men. The men were elbowing each other and chuckling as they watched the boy. Darcy had a bad feeling about this. Scanning the crowds, she did not see Alistair or Morrigan. Bending down and rubbing Teebone's head, she quietly ordered the hound to go find them. Sensing the urgency in his mistress' voice, he gave a short growl in the back of his throat and ran away; his nose firmly to the ground as he sniffed out the scents of the two humans that accompanied his mistress.

Darcy watched as the boy came to a halt right in front of the biggest of the four men. He showed absolutely no fear and Darcy hoped that it wasn't foolishness.

"Let my brother go!" The boy all but growled at the men.

Exchanging glances, the men started roaring with laughter and slapping each other on the back in their mirth.

"Or what, boy? You think you can take us on?" The big one asked looking down at him.

"Why have you taken my brother prisoner; what has he done?"

"He's one of them Grey Wardens that betrayed the king. There's a ransom put on his head by Loghain himself." One of the men with a crooked nose and bright copper hair said. He was grinning from ear to ear, but his eyes were locked on the boy in front of them.

"My brother is no Grey Warden, you're mistaken."

"No matter, that's fer Loghain to decide," The third man with dirty blonde hair said.

Darcy felt a warm tongue lick her fingers at her side and looked down to find that Teebone had returned with Alistair and Morrigan. They both looked at her with worried frowns.

"What's happening?" Alistair whispered.

"Mercenaries," Darcy explained.

"They've got the boy's brother and is claiming he is a Grey Warden along with the other two. They are going to take them to Loghain and claim the bounty."

"There's a bounty on the Grey Wardens?" Alistair asked incredulously.

"Of course, fool, that is what she just said." Morrigan retorted indignantly.

Darcy sighed, she didn't have time for this.

"Look, that boy is about the meet the Maker if someone doesn't do something to stop this. Whatever you do, do not say that you are a Grey Warden, Alistair, and both of you stay put unless you think it is absolutely necessary to intervene." Darcy's eyes bore into Alistair's, waiting for his reply.

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I don't know yet." Darcy turned and moved through the crowd towards the four men and the boy before Alistair could say anything about it.

The boy had drawn a dagger and was holding it in front of him defensively as the big man stepped forward.

"What are ye going to do with that toothpick of ye'rs, eh?" The man growled menacingly and took another step forward.

Up close, Darcy noticed that the boy was actually a lot older than she originally thought. In fact, Darcy wasn't so sure he was a boy at all; the features of his face was far too feminine. There was a dangerous glint in those hard blue eyes that made Darcy think that he (if in fact he was indeed a he) was more capable of taking on his opponent than she first thought. However, Darcy wasn't going to gamble on another's life and stepped into the circle just as the big man drew his very large two-handed great sword from its sheath on his back.

"Halt," Darcy said in her most commanding tone. The crowd gasped their surprise as all eyes turned on her.

Craik's smile widened when he saw the small woman that had walked into the ring. Her auburn hair glinted like fire in the afternoon sun and silken strands of loose hair framed her small face. Two large, grey eyes glared angrily at him as his eyes travelled over her delicious curves. He noticed the two swords on her back; she obviously had some skill, but she was still young and he had been fighting for many, many years. She would be no match for him. He decided that he would not kill her, yet. She promised to be a lot of fun.

"Hello, darling," he chuckled. "Just give me a minute to dispose of this here little rat, then you and I can go somewhere more private to discuss all the fun we are going to have."

He could hear his three companions chuckle behind him. It irritated him. They were a bunch of idiots who couldn't think for themselves and took all their cues from him. He was beginning to think that maybe it was time to get rid of them and find some new comrades; preferably before they reached Denerim. He took a step towards her and was impressed when she did not flinch.

"You will leave the boy alone and you will set those men free; they are no Grey Wardens." Darcy said. The tone of her voice was hard, but she spoke clearly and her voice carried across the crowd.

The crowd started murmuring quietly amongst themselves. This had to be the most exciting thing to happen since news came of the Darkspawn invasion, apart from the capture of that large, grey giant that was being held captive in the cage just outside of the town's walls.

Craik studied the girl in front of him more closely. Her stance was relaxed and yet she looked ready to go into combat at a moment's notice. There was an air of confidence around her that he had only seen in experienced fighters. Her eyes were hard and glinted dangerously; never leaving his face. Perhaps he was too quick to judge her harmless. His smile faltered ever so slightly.

"Is that so, and how do you know they aren't Grey Wardens?" The grin on his face felt a little forced, but he had to keep up appearances; there was no way that he would admit that this girl was actually making him a little nervous.

A smile slowly formed on her lips, but it held no warmth at all. Craik couldn't help swallowing nervously.

"Because I am a Grey Warden and none of these men were amongst my brothers and sisters at Ostagar."

Darcy noticed how the large man's adam's apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. _Good, _she thought, she was getting to him. At the mention of her being a Grey Warden, the crowd gasped loudly and the constant low murmur became louder.

"Well, well, did you hear that, lads? It seems we have been very lucky stopping here in this lovely town. Four Grey Wardens for Loghain, now isn't that something." Craik chuckled and glanced in the direction of his companions. Craik had no doubt that the woman was skilled, but there was no way she could beat four seasoned fighters.

"I have a proposition for you," Darcy said as all four men drew their weapons and started towards her. The big one stopped and raised his hand for the others to stop as well.

"Go on then, let's hear it," Craik said.

"I challenge you to a duel. You may fight me yourself, or you may choose one of your companions to fight for you. If I win, you release your prisoners and leave this town. If you win, I will go with you to Denerim as your prisoner, but you will leave your current prisoners here."

"Do you take me for a fool, girl? Why would I give up the prisoners that I already have when I can hand Loghain four Wardens?" Craik laughed.

"It's like I said, your prisoners aren't Grey Wardens and Loghain would see that straight away. You won't get a reward for those three. However, Loghain does know who I am and I can assure you that he will reward you handsomely for my capture."

Craik studied the small woman in front of him for a long moment. He wondered if she was telling the truth and if so, how did Loghain know her?

"Just who in the Void are you?" Craik asked; unable to contain his curiosity.

"I am Darcy Cousland. My father is Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever." Darcy prayed to the Maker that no one here had heard of her family's downfall.

The crowd could be heard talking amongst themselves in excitement and there was an air of anticipation that surrounded them. Craik had heard of the Cousland name before. If she was indeed the daughter of Teyrn Cousland, she would very likely fetch a much higher reward than all three men put together. If he was not satisfied with Loghain's reward, he could always ransom her to the Teyrn himself.

"Very well, I accept your terms," Craik nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

Alistair did not know whether to laugh or cry. What was she thinking! Did she not see the size of that man's sword; it could cleave a bigger man in half with one fell swoop. He could hear Morrigan uttering curses next to him, but he refused to take his eyes off Darcy. She had drawn her swords and was facing her opponent. Her face was set with determination as the two circled each other.

Darcy had been studying her opponent the entire time they had been talking. That had been one thing her master had told her over and over again during her training. _"You must study your opponent. You must always remember to strike with your mind and your sword." _

He had strength on his side; he wielded his massive sword with ease. His reach was longer than hers, which meant that she would have to get past his sword to get at him with her own swords. She knew she would be faster; his heavy armour would slow him down, but Darcy was under no illusion that the man would be slow in his movements. She had practised against soldiers in her father's guard that fought with two-handed weapons and knew just how fast they could be. The pain in her shoulder was another reminder that she should not be fighting this duel. She was beginning to think that this was perhaps a foolish notion on her part, but it was too late now.

She caught the first blow of his massive sword in the 'V' of her own crossed swords. The impact of the swords made her bones and teeth jar. Shooting pain shot through her injured shoulder and Darcy had to use all her strength to keep the sharp edge of her opponent's blade away from her. She was going to have to try and stay clear of that blade as much as possible; she did not think she would be able to stop many of those powerful blows with her injuries still so fresh.

Alistair wanted to close his eyes and refuse to watch, but he found that he couldn't. Real sword fights were never how they were described in books; the two fighters' swords were moving so fast that the blades were nothing more than blur to the spectators. Every time their swords met, the sound of clashing steel would ring through the air. The crowd responded to every lunge and parry, gasping, cheering, or yelling either advice or insults.

She was favouring her left shoulder which meant that her injury was impeding her movements and leaving her open to the big man's sword. The crowd gasped again as the giant sword made a sweep past Darcy's neck; coming perilously close to beheading the small woman. If it wasn't for her cat-like reflexes, Alistair was sure she would have lost the duel several times over by now.

Darcy's arms were shaking with strain as she deflected another bone shattering blow from her opponent's sword. Beads of sweat ran tiny rivers down her cheeks; she was beginning to tire and she knew that this duel would need to end soon. Her opponent was tiring too; she had noticed his movements slowing.

The big man lunged at her again with a feral roar emanating from his throat. Darcy brought her swords up just in time to parry and sidestepped before riposting. He parried her sword with his own, but not before she managed to cut his cheek with the tip of one black blade. A ripple of cheers went through the crowd.

Craik could not believe that the small woman in front of him had managed to draw first blood. He had to concede that she was remarkably skilled with her longswords. He made a feint attack towards her upper body and instead swept his blade low, forcing her to retreat. Thrusting upwards quickly, he caught her right hand blade with a ringing blow and disarmed her. The black blade of her longsword gleamed in the dwindling light of day as it landed in the dirt. A look of shock crossed her face and Craik grinned manically; he was going to win this duel.

His opponent's eyes grew wide with fear as he sped up his attack; becoming more and more aggressive. She was retreating before him; unable to do more than parry his vicious attacks. He roared victoriously when she faltered and fell to the ground. Bringing his great sword right up to the soft skin of her neck, he kicked her other sword away and leaned in so that they were nose to nose.

"I guess this makes me the winner," he grinned.

She looked up at him with large grey eyes, before slowly returning his grin. This surprised Craik; the loser didn't normally smile in a situation like this.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked cocking her eyebrow at him.

Confusion settled over Craik at her words. He was the clear winner here wasn't he? A sharp pain in his left side made itself known and he was finding it difficult to catch his breath, in fact he was wheezing like an old man. He coughed and a spray of red blood drops landed on the woman's chest and cheek. Frowning, he sat upright; the crowd was silent, not even a murmur could be heard. He looked down his left side where he was feeling pain and was shocked to see the hilt of a small dagger that was buried into his body, right between the seam of his breastplate. He staggered backwards and fell to the ground. With a shaky hand he pulled the dagger free and dropped it in the dirt. He tried to speak, but he couldn't; the dagger had pierced a lung. His vision grew dark around the edges and he lay himself down; his eyes never leaving the face of the little girl who had bested him. The last thing he saw before his vision blacked out was the sweet, innocent smile of the beauty with hair that burned like fire.

Shocked silence reigned for what seemed like an age. The copper haired mercenary was the first to snap out of it. He looked aghast as his eyes moved from the dead body of his long-time friend to the Warden who had killed him. Rage settled in when their eyes met.

"You killed him, you bitch!" he roared at her; yanking his axe from its scabbard and swinging it wildly as he charged at her.

He didn't get very far before he came to an abrupt stop, dropping his axe. A small throwing knife protruded from his right eye socket. He took two more steps before falling to the ground dead. Everyone's eyes were trained on the Warden in the middle of the ring, but her face showed just as much shock and surprise.

Movement at the edge of the crowd caught Darcy's eye and she saw the boy that had first challenged the mercenaries walking towards her. It must have been his throwing knife that had killed the second mercenary. He stopped to pick up Darcy's fallen blade and continued towards her. He held it towards her, pommel first. She accepted it with a nod of thanks and picked up her second sword before turning towards the two remaining mercenaries.

"Unless the two of you would like to follow your companions into the Void, I suggest you leave this town immediately." Darcy pinned each man with a steely gaze to make sure they understood. They nodded fervently.

"I want you to take a message to Loghain for me," she waited to make sure she had both the men's attention. Her voice rang clear as she spoke again.

"I want you to tell Loghain that the Grey Wardens know what really happened at Ostagar. I want you to tell Loghain that I'm coming for him."

The two men nodded again to show they understood. Scanning the crowd, she spotted Ser Bryant standing near the front of the circle of people. She walked towards him.

"Ser Bryant, would you mind terribly if two of your men were to escort these two lowlifes out of town?"

Ser Bryant smiled and gave her the customary hand-over-heart salute.

"It will be done, my lady."

He called two of his Templars forward and the crowd parted to let them through. The clanking of armour and crunch of steel boots in the dirt was all that could be heard as the men departed. The moment the two men and their escort was out of sight, the mother, whose boy had been imprisoned, ran towards Darcy. Crying and laughing she flung herself at Darcy; embracing her in an almost suffocating hug.

"Oh thank you, thank you so much for saving my boy. How can I ever repay you." Darcy was a little put off by the wailing woman, but she patted the woman's shoulder nonetheless.

"It's of no consequence, dear lady, I'm just glad that I could be of help." She glanced around anxiously to see if someone would come and take the hysterical woman away and sighed in relief when she noticed the young woman, who had been standing with the older woman earlier, walking towards her.

She had the same jet-black hair as the boy, but she wore it long; her eyes were a rich caramel colour. She smiled as she approached and spoke softly to the older woman who finally relinquished her hold on Darcy.

"Come, Mother, we will go see how Carver is doing. He will need our help now."

They started walking in the direction of the prison wagon where a few Templars had begun freeing the men. Some of the Sisters from the Chantry were standing ready with some healing poultices and bandages.

Another figure had been standing quietly behind the other two women; patiently waiting for them to leave before approaching Darcy.

"You know, I could have taken on that man without any problem at all." There was a hint of irritation in the boy's voice, but his clear blue eyes were smiling.

"You were going to take him on with a little dagger," Darcy shrugged. "Do you always get yourself neck deep into trouble without knowing where help would be coming from?" Darcy asked; a smile plucking at the corners of her lips.

"Do you always challenge giants with great swords to a dual when you are already injured?" The boy countered; smirking.

"Touché," Darcy chuckled.

"You have amazing skill with your blades; it was a very impressive fight. I'm Robyn Hawke, by the way, but everyone just calls me Hawke. You have already met my mother, Leandra and my sister Bethany; and my brother, who you have rescued, is called Carver," he extended a gloved hand out to Darcy who grasped it firmly in her own as they shook hands.

"Darcy, but I'm sure everyone here now knows that." Hawke chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"How long have you been a Grey Warden?" he asked.

"Exactly one week," Darcy answered with a straight face. Hawke looked at her in surprise.

"Are you being serious?"

"Very," Darcy replied.

"Are there more of you left?"

"Only one other," Darcy's expression saddened.

"I'm sorry. What is going to happen now? I mean this is a Blight, right?"Hawke asked; looking concerned.

Darcy sighed; how to go about answering _this _question.

"We will rally as many allies as we can and try to convince Loghain that the threat is very real. Hopefully, he will come to his senses before the Archdemon itself lands on top of the Royal Palace. If you want my advice, you will take your family and leave Ferelden until it is safe to return. Whatever you do, do not linger in this town; it will be the first to fall."

Hawke nodded, "I will. Thank you for saving my brother; my family will always be indebted to you. I wish you good luck; may the Maker be with you."

Hawke gave Darcy a final smile before turning to leave.

"You're not really a boy, are you, Hawke?" Darcy called after him.

Hawke paused and turned, eyes alight with mischief and a wide grin spread across his face. He brought a gloved index finger to his lips, indicating that Darcy should keep it secret.

"I hope we meet again soon, Warden." she said before running towards her waiting family.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, I'm back and ready with a new chapter. Thank you for reading, reviewing and following this story. This chapter has been very kindly proofread and tweaked by Mycatisawesome. **

**-Rosie-**

* * *

Alistair couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, but consciousness haunted him as he replayed the day's events in his mind. Darcy's compulsive actions had terrified and amazed him. Not only had she challenged a man no smaller than twice her size to a duel, but she had also triumphed. A swift stick of her dagger between the man's ribs had ended the mercenary's life, and freed the wronged prisoners.

He felt like he'd aged ten years since meeting Darcy; her apparent lack of self-preservation was astounding, and it was obvious that she had no qualms about doing whatever needed to be done to accomplish the task at hand. He thought back to the Tower of Ishal, Darcy had tackled every problem they had come across head-on. Not wavering for a moment when she had 'helped' that young soldier to the Maker's side; he shuddered at the thought of all those ominous looking vials in her pack from which the soldier's salvation had emerged. She hadn't even thought twice when she had mounted that ogre, as if she were a child climbing a tree, and had killed it with a similar familiarity and ease. Finally, if all of that wasn't enough, she had taken several arrows to the chest that had been meant for him, almost dying herself. He wondered if Duncan had seen all of this in her when he had recruited her.

With the Orlesian occupation still fresh in everyone's mind, all Ferelden nobility trained their children, both male and female, in the arts of war. Darcy's training went above and beyond that which was commonly cultivated by the nobles. Alistair wondered who her tutor was… Certainly not her father, a respectable Teyrn like Bryce Cousland would never have schooled his daughter in picking locks like a master thief.

He sighed, defeated, and turned around for the umpteenth time. Despite his inability to sleep, it was nice to be indoors for a change. As it turned out, one of the imprisoned men they had freed was the brother of the Innkeeper, Danal, who had shown his gratitude by offering them the use of his own quarters for the night; which, after artful beseeching on Danal's part, they had gratefully accepted.

Alistair sighed and sat up in his bedroll. Being a gentleman, he had offered the available beds to Darcy and Morrigan. The mage had excused herself earlier in the evening, promising to be back before dawn, and disappeared into the night; probably frolicking the night away in some sort of bestial form. He cringed at the thought; the witch made him incredibly uncomfortable. Expecting to see Darcy's sleeping form occupying the second bed, he was shocked to find it empty. _Maker, where did the woman disappear to now and how did I not hear her leave?_

"Darcy?" he whispered, hoping that she was still in the room, but his only answer was Teebone's soft snores.

Rising slowly, he made his way into the common room and from there into the bar; nearly tripping over the sleeping form of Danal, sprawled out on the floor. He had hoped that Darcy would be somewhere in the inn, but that would, of course, be too easy.

"Well that is just great," he groaned and returned to their room to get dressed.

Fastening the last buckle on his breastplate, he gently nudged the hound with the toe of his boot. The beast yawned and raised its giant head, peering at Alistair inquisitively.

"Come on boy, we need to go find your mistress and make sure she doesn't get into trouble."

* * *

Darcy braced herself against the chilly night air. The constant, soft drizzle of rain was the perfect cover for her already silent footsteps; Alistair hadn't even heard her leave the room they shared at the inn, and she was sure he had been wide-awake at the time. Hopefully, he would fall asleep and not realize her absence.

She pulled the hood of her cloak lower over her face and kept to the shadows. Darcy was on a mission. She had overheard some local gossip about a grey giant being held prisoner in a cage outside the city walls and intended to meet him. She wondered if he was being guarded, if so, she had yet to encounter a single guardsman. Were these people even aware that there was a Blight? How could they be so neglectful towards the town and its defences?

Pausing for a moment, she listened intently, making sure no one was following her. She had a feeling that she was being watched, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. She was becoming paranoid, or whoever was following her was particularly skilled; either way she would have to be careful.

Reaching the walls of the town, she quickly glanced over her shoulder once more, before quietly approaching the prisoner. He was muttering what sounded like a Qunari prayer she had once read about in one of Aldous' many books. Her knowledge of the Qunari was limited to that particular text. From what she could remember, the Qunari were a proud race; honour and duty were vital to their beliefs.

She noted his lack of horns, remembering something about hornless Qunari being viewed as special and were often given places of honour amongst their own.

"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraat astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." He quietly growled the same phrase over and over again.

Stepping out of the shadows, Darcy approached the cage. His prayers stopped for a long moment. When he spoke again, it was in the common tongue.

"Leave, human, I am not here for your amusement." Violet eyes flashed angrily at her before he turned away.

"I'm not here for my amusement either," Darcy answered, stopping in front of the cage.

"Then what is it you want, bas?" He scoffed angrily.

"I wanted to speak with you. My name is Darcy, it is an honour to meet a follower of the Qun."

Startled, the Qunari lifted his head to look at the human in front of him.

"Manners, from a human. You mock me. What do you know of the Qun?"

"Truthfully, not much at all; only what I have learned from books. May I know whom I am speaking to?" If Darcy remembered correctly, the Qunari did not use names, but rather went by the title of their rank within their society.

"I am Sten of the Beresaad - the vanguard - of the Qunari peoples." He answered.

"Why are you locked up, Sten?" Darcy asked, wondering what he had done to be caged.

"I am a prisoner," Sten said frowning at her as if she was of inferior intelligence for asking such a ridiculous question.

Darcy withheld a chuckle, the corners of her mouth twitching as she rephrased the question, "Now that we've cleared that up, what did you do to warrant your imprisonment?"

Sten regarded her for a long moment before answering, "I killed a family of humans."

"Why?" Darcy kept her features perfectly schooled; not wanting to reveal her shock at his readily admittance to such a crime.

"My reasons are my own, human," he snarled.

"How were you captured? Did you not try to escape?" Darcy was not at all intimidated by his ferocious scowling.

"When I realized what I had done, I allowed myself to be captured. Pashaara! What is the meaning of all your questions?" he growled.

Darcy eyed the giant carefully. He spoke with remorse for what he had done, and his capture had been an act of redemption. Darcy smiled,

"What if I told you that there is another way to redeem yourself?"

He angled his back to her, "There is none; this is the only honourable thing to do. I do not expect a human to understand such things as honour and duty, but this is the way of the Qun."

Darcy clenched her fist, "You are wrong." Her words were spoken with such conviction that Sten turned and studied her in surprise.

"My family has always done the honourable thing, even when it did not seem that way in the eyes of others. A Cousland never shirks their duty, and it is for that very reason that I find myself here." Darcy's powerful voice quivered only slightly with emotion as she thought of all the times her father had told her that very same thing.

Sten contemplated the human standing before him. She spoke passionately of duty and honour; something he did not expect to find in a human. Perhaps it was worth listening to her proposal.

"What do you want from me?" Sten grumbled resignedly.

Darcy rewarded him with a big grin, "I want you to join me and my fellow Grey Warden to help us fight against the Blight."

"You are a Grey Warden?" Sten asked incredulously looking at the tiny human female standing before him.

"Yes, I am a Grey Warden."

"I have heard of the Grey Wardens, they are mighty warriors, you do not fit that description."

"Looks can be deceiving," she smirked already anticipating the moment she would disprove his prejudice.

He stood silent for some time, contemplating his choices.

"It seems that fighting these Darkspawn is indeed an honourable task. If you can convince these other humans to release me, I will join you."

"Then I will leave you for now and return once I have negotiated your release with the Revered Mother."

Darcy pulled a small parcel from her cloak along with a water bottle and placed it inside the cage through the bars.

"What is this?" Sten asked confused.

"Food," Darcy answered simply, before donning her hood once more and disappearing into the shadows.

She slipped quietly through the night, pausing sparingly to listen out for any noise that seemed out of place. She still sensed someone was watching and she couldn't shake the feeling. Elation coursed through her at the prospect of having a strong fighter such as Sten aiding them against The Blight. Now all she needed to do was convince the Revered Mother to release a murderer into her custody…

Darcy slipped around a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. Not five feet from her stood a group of four men, some late-night revellers that had yet to find their way home. Darcy decided to take an alternative route and turned to go back the way she had come, only to be faced with four more men. Edging into the shadows she attempted to disappear from their sights and thus, their minds. Unfortunately, having been caught off-guard due to her pondering she made the move a moment too slow. One of the men looked straight at her, half encased in shadow, and a slow smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, lads," he shouted loudly, "it looks like we've got ourselves a little sport after all." He leered at her, blocking off her escape.

Not bothering to respond to his blather, she turned to go the other way, but the men behind her had already created a semi-circle formation and were closing in slowly. She was trapped. Cursing softly under her breath she braced herself for a fight.

"Let me go on my way and you will not get hurt." Darcy said with more bravado than she felt. She could take on several attackers with ease and efficiency, but eight full-grown men at once might be able to give her a run for her money, and she wasn't in a betting mood.

"Oh, we gots ourselves a feisty one," another man chuckled falling into a fit of hiccups.

"I like them feisty," his friend answered, "the reward at the end is so much sweeter." A chorus of laughter ensued.

Though her heart was beating a frantic staccato, she kept her expression neutral and her stance relaxed.

"I should warn you that it is not my intention to submit quietly. If you attack me, you will die."

The men laughed loudly; heckling and cajoling, only two of the men glanced around nervously, seeming hesitant.

"It's not too late to leave," she said loudly, speaking over the rowdy men.

Slowly, she raised her hands towards her head and lowered her hood, hoping that at least one of the men would recognize her from the dual. She smiled when a few gasped in surprise.

"Oi, it's that Grey Warden from earlier; the one that killed that merc." The man took a few steps back. He had seen the dual, and he had no intentions of becoming too familiar with the pointy ends of her swords.

"Well then I guess we struck the jackpot, eh lads. First we have a little bit of fun and then we take her to Loghain and claim our reward!" The first man howled.

He tried to grab her arm, but Darcy spun out of his reach; grabbing one of her small daggers strapped to her thigh, and plunged it into the side of his neck. He stood staring at her in complete shock. Raising his hand, he touched the hilt of the dagger with his fingers as if he couldn't believe it was really there.

"I wouldn't pull that out if I were you," Darcy warned. "That dagger is now the only thing that is keeping you alive. If you remove it, you will bleed out in a matter of seconds. I suggest you find a Healer; I hope Lothering has a good one." She smiled sweetly at him.

His face was horror-struck; at Darcy's suggestion, he turned and slowly walked away. The two men, who had been more hesitant earlier, quietly followed their friend into the night. Darcy examined the five remaining men and gave a satisfied nod.

"Five left, I like these odds better," she smiled, dropping her cloak and unsheathing her swords in one smooth motion.

"Well, come on then, who still feels like playing?" she challenged.

As if they had been waiting on her invitation, the men swiftly advanced. They were armed, but not heavily; these were not trained soldiers, they were just boys with toys. She felt sorry for them… almost.

Rapidly twisting out of reach from the large hunting knife wielded by her first attacker, she aimed a vicious kick down on his right knee. The bone made a sickening snap as he cried out in pain and fell to the ground, clutching his shattered leg.

Darcy moved on to her second target without another glance at the injured man. The second man dropped like a felled tree as she rendered him unconscious with a well-aimed blow to his temple implementing the pommel of her sword.

The third man never even got within her arm's reach. An arrow flew out of the darkness and embedded itself in some wooden window shutters inches from the man's nose. Stopping in his tracks, he stared wide-eyed into the darkness wishing to spot the new attacker. Darcy pointed her sword at him and he took a step back, lowering his own weapon.

"Last chance, leave now with your body parts intact."

Darcy watched them warily to see if the remaining three would attempt to attack her again, but they made no movements. She lowered her swords slightly, "Well? Run."

They needed no more encouragement and immediately fled the scene. Darcy's smile at their hasty departure turned into a grimace as she leaned against the wall, her left arm shaking with effort. She hoped that her shoulder would get time to mend before she had to fight again, at this rate it was never going to heal.

"Are you friend or foe? Reveal yourself," she spoke into the night; calling out to her invisible helper.

For a while nothing happened, but then a noise to her left alerted her to the whereabouts of another person. A slim figure materialized out of the shadows, stepping into the dim light cast by the torches in the wall sconces, revealing a woman dressed in Chantry robes. She had red hair a few shades lighter than Darcy's own and carried a bow on her back.

"Why is a Chantry Sister following me around in the dead of night?" Darcy spoke, shifting her weight against the wall so that she could continue to subtly support her damaged shoulder without revealing her injury to the stranger.

"Forgive me Warden," the woman spoke with a strong Orlesian accent. "I had hoped to speak with you sooner, but I was unable to reach you before you retired for the night."

"So you chose to follow me instead. Why did you not just come and speak to me when you saw me leave the inn?"

"I was curious," the woman calmly admitted, "I wanted to see where you were going. My name is Leliana, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." She held her hand out to Darcy who accepted it in greeting.

"I suppose I can assume you know who I am," Darcy stated, watching the woman warily. She was still unsure of whether or not to trust her. "You are no ordinary Sister, are you?"

Leliana looked amused, "I did not grow up in a Chantry, if that is what you mean."

"What did you want to speak to me about?" Darcy inquired, suddenly feeling the need to go back to the inn and sleep.

"I want to join you." Leliana said simply.

Darcy watched her with a dubious expression, "You want to join me? What does that mean, exactly?"

"You are the Grey Warden, no? I want to join you in your fight against the Darkspawn."

"Why?" Darcy's exhaustion was catching up to her all at once.

"The Maker told me to, of course," Leliana beamed brightly up at Darcy as if she should have already known the answer to that question.

Darcy was sure the Sister must have knocked her head very hard when she was young; it was the only explanation for such ramblings.

"The Maker told you to find me, and join me in the fight against the Blight," Darcy rubbed her temples and repeated the information, just to make sure she had heard it right.

"Yes," Leliana nodded enthusiastically.

"Do you realize what you would be committing to? We have an Archdemon to kill, and that's _if_ we even make that far. This isn't going to be a promenade around the country."

"I assure you that I have never been more sure of my decision, please, let me help you. I am a capable fighter and good with a bow, as you have seen. I will not disappoint you." Leliana pleaded desperately.

Darcy thought for a while, finally coming to a decision.

"Come by the inn in the morning and meet my other companions, I will give you my answer then."

Leliana's expression transformed from worry to delight, "Thank you, you will not regret your decision. Oh, and if you want help convincing the Revered Mother to release your Qunari friend, I may be able to offer aid."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Darcy desired to respond the Sister's kindness with more enthusiasm, but her need to be horizontal was quickly becoming her main concern.

They were just on the verge of parting ways, when the unmistakable clank of heavy armour filled the quiet night. Both women slipped into the shadows again, mutely listening to the slow approach of the comically loud armour. As the heavy footfalls increased in volume, so did the quiet mutterings of a male voice. Darcy moved to the corner of the alley they were standing in and peered around the corner. She had her swords in hand, ready for an attack at a moment's notice. Leliana had found a strategic position and trained her bow and arrow on the figure.

Darcy nearly guffawed when she recognized who it was. Indicating for Leliana to lower her bow, she waited for the man to jog past her seclusion in the shadows before stepping out into the open behind him.

"If you are looking to save some damsels in distress, you're too late." Alistair nearly jumped out of his own skin when he heard Darcy's voice behind him. Spinning around to face her, he saw as she worked to hide a sly smile from spreading across her face.

"Gah, Maker's breath, where did you come from? Why are you out here on your own in the middle of the night?" he scowled, not amused.

"I am not on my own." Darcy signalled for Leliana to join them, "This is Leliana. She has offered her services in our quest to quell the Blight."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, you must be the other Grey Warden, yes?" Leliana smiled and offered her hand in greeting.

"Alistair; a pleasure to meet you Sister." He shook her hand, turning to frown disapprovingly at Darcy again.

"You know, if you are going to make a habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night, you could at least tell me. What if you got hurt? You didn't even take Teebone with you. Speaking of that hound, he ran off the moment we exited the inn. So much for loyalty."

Darcy gazed at him penitently, wanting more than anything to return to their room and sleep, "I'm sorry Alistair, I'll explain once we are back at the inn." She worked to conceal a wince and rubbed her throbbing shoulder.

"Fine, " Alistair huffed, his brow pulled together in concern, he had caught the flash of pain on her face. "Let's get you back to the inn, maybe Morrigan will be back and she can have a look at your shoulder."

"We will see you in the morning Leliana," Darcy said to the Sister, using every remaining ounce of energy she had to keep herself upright and walking towards the Inn.

* * *

Exhaling with relief, Darcy slumped onto the bed in her linen shirt and woollen trousers, and dropped the remainder of her leather armour unceremoniously onto the floor staring at its soft, buttery leather. It was well worn, but Darcy couldn't find it in herself to have it replaced. It was one of her only tangible links to home, or at least, what had once been her home. Her wound had opened up again staining the bandages a dark red. Morrigan was certainly going to have something to say about it when she finally returned. Darcy wondered where the mage had gone and what she was doing.

"So, are you going to tell me what you were doing outside in the middle of the night?" Alistair looked pained as he watched Darcy gingerly rearrange her bloodied and fatigued body to a more comfortable position on the bed.

"I wanted to speak with the Qunari prisoner." Darcy answered matter-of-factly.

"Why?" Alistair glared, unsatisfied with her response.

"I wanted to find out what he had been imprisoned for."

"And?" Alistair really wished he didn't have to pull the information from her like this.

"He murdered a family," Darcy shrugged speaking with as much enthusiasm as one might use to discuss the weather.

"You couldn't go speak to him during the day? Why did you have to sneak off in the middle of the night?" Alistair ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

"The town is too busy during the day, I wanted to ask him some questions away from prying eyes and ears. Incidentally, did you notice that there was not a single guard on patrol tonight?" She seemed completely unfazed by or unaware of the worry she had caused him.

Alistair nodded, momentarily conceding to her subject change, "Yes, I did notice that. Why are you so interested in this Qunari?"

Darcy watched him intently before answering, "I want him to help us."

"What?" Alistair asked incredulously. This woman was determined to give him a heart attack, "Why?"

"He is a Sten who leads the Qunari Vanguard, he's a strong warrior, and he will be an excellent asset in the coming battle." She listed out his qualifications earnestly.

Alistair stared at her dumbfounded,

"Forgive me, but if I am understanding you correctly, you want to enlist the help of a man, completely overlooking the fact that he has been incarcerated for the slaughter of innocent families…because he is an able warrior."

"Yes," Darcy answered simply.

"Right... well that's alright then. I was worried there for a moment that you might be suffering from delirium, but your apt explanation has put me at ease. I will rest soundly knowing that Sten, the murderer, is sleeping only a few feet from me every night we are on the road, because, you know, assuming he doesn't strangle us all in our sleep, he will be such an excellent asset in the coming battle." Alistair threw his arms up in frustration.

"He is remorseful; he wants to atone for his crime, that is why he gave himself up."

"Oh that makes it so much better," Alistair rolled his eyes.

Darcy stood and started pacing the length of the room.

"Look Alistair, being a Grey Warden was not very high on my to do list a few weeks ago, but we don't always get to choose what happens to us. All I want is to seek out Rendon Howe and make sure he pays for what he did to my family, but I can't, not before the Archdemon lies dead. So, if I think that recruiting a murdering Qunari, a hedge mage, and a loopy lay sister might help us kill the blighted thing, then that is exactly what I will do."

Darcy glared at Alistair, challenging him to say more on the subject. They remained in a heavy silence for an excruciatingly long moment before Alistair finally spoke,

"Loopy lay sister?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sister Leliana is... interesting." She responded slowly, the fire that had built up inside Darcy as she had remembered her family began to recede and she allowed a small smile to slip out and reassure Alistair's still worried gaze.

"Alright, alright, but next time you go sneaking off, I'm coming along too," he said with finality.

"Only if you lose the armour. You are far too noisy to be covert." Darcy laughed.

"Never, I would feel naked without it. I thought I was being quite stealthy tonight, actually," he said with a fake air of indignation.

"I'm convinced the clanking of your armour was so loud that you roused children from their slumber in Redcliffe. What was that you muttered about getting your hands on my skinny little neck?" Darcy asked with an arched eyebrow.

Alistair blushed, "Th-that had nothing to do with your neck!" he stuttered, "Your neck isn't even skinny, you have a lovely neck..."

Darcy grinned and arched her eyebrows even higher.

"That didn't come out right. I mean you do have a lovely neck… it's... Maker, can we go to bed now? Uh, I mean sleep, go to sleep! You over there and me over here... Goodnight!"

Alistair dove into his bedroll and hid his flaming cheeks under the covers. Maker, he was such an idiot!

"Goodnight, Alistair," Darcy sang before finally finding her own soft pillow.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi everyone, here is chapter 13, very kindly tweaked and spell-checked by mycatisawesome. Thank you to all of you who has reviewed, read, favoured and followed this story so far.**

**I'd love to hear what you think, so why not leave me a review. What do you think will happen next? Where do you see this story going?**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

"Bah, the old biddy is as stubborn as a mule!"

Darcy returned from her meeting with the Revered Mother, dropping herself into a chair at the end of the table, and emitted a frustrated huff that clearly answered how her request for Sten's release had been received. Much to her companions' exasperation and confusion, she had decided against invoking the act of conscription. It was necessary that the decision be made free from the emotions that ancient requirement often cultivated, as she feared Sten's sense of penitence and honour might be addled, preventing full commitment to his warrior abilities.

"I did not do much better when I spoke to her about it," Leliana pouted, "Perhaps the Revered Mother has reasons for her refusal that should be heeded?"

Darcy snorted, "The only reasoning I failed to heed was in regards to these," she shook her leather pouch, jingling the coins within, " The old crone dismissed my request because I did not pay thirty silvers in tithe."

Leliana frowned at Darcy's complete disregard for the Revered Mother, but wisely held her tongue. It would not do to anger her new companions; after all, they had just permitted her to join their quest.

Standing behind Leliana, Alistair rolled his eyes and grinned broadly when he saw that Darcy had caught the action, desperately trying not to smile herself. He felt like a right twit after last night's bumbling explanation about her neck. Maker! He was sure his mouth had been possessed; he was usually much more accomplished at the whole formulating-proper-and-appropriate-sentences thing. Mercifully, she had not mentioned or poked fun at his awkwardness that morning, and the night's events had found what he hoped would be a permanent home, in the past.

After breakfast and Leliana's introductions were made, they decided on their next course of action. It had been an unofficial plan between Darcy and Alistair to head for Redcliffe and seek an audience with the Arl Eamon. Eamon was, as Alistair had somewhat evasively explained, practically his uncle. Darcy hoped to meet the reasonable and affable man that she had so often heard the Arl described; they would need a leader who displayed such empathy if they had any hope of being heard. There was no telling what stories Loghain had been spreading about the Grey Warden's since Ostagar, but if Lothering had been any example, they would have their work cut out for them.

"So, what's next?" Alistair looked expectantly at Darcy.

She drew back, discomforted by Alistair's constant deflection of leadership to her. Technically, he was the senior Warden by six months, in reality, the man didn't have the confidence to lead a puppy to its food bowl, much less a team of warriors against the Blight. He was cautious to a fault, Darcy thought, his emotions too intertwined with each of his decisions. She didn't know if his aversion was more of a lack of will or inability, but his constant encouragement for her to take charge didn't seem to be wavering any time soon.

"T'would be unwise to linger in this town much longer." Morrigan paused her nail inspection and glanced up at her company, before returning, apparently bored by what she saw, "There are Darkspawn advancing towards it as we speak; I saw them last night."

"But then we must warn everyone at once," Leliana cried looking horrified.

"I've tried speaking to Ser Bryant at the Chantry," Darcy's expression, while controlled, revealed her dismay at the situation, "I told him that the town is at risk and that they should leave. He said that the Revered Mother will not retreat and so he and the rest of the Templars must stay as well. He did promise to speak to as many folk as he could and encourage them to leave."

"We must help these people," Leliana stated resolutely, rising from her chair.

Darcy nodded, " We will do what we can to warn them. Be ready to leave by nightfall." Then, turning to Alistair, "Do you think that Dwarven merchant you and Morrigan purchased our supplies from will have left town yet?"

Alistair frowned, thinking, "No, I don't believe so, although he did say that he was making his way to Redcliffe soon. Why? Surely, we have everything we need."

"We need to prepare one more travel pack," she pushed her chair away from the table, standing, "and I want to speak to him about armour and weapons."

Alistair looked at her, mystified by her strength and assurance. He was pretty sure he must have missed something, because otherwise why would they need an extra pack? Scolding himself for daydreaming instead of listening to the conversation, he rubbed his face as if to wipe away the shame, "Um, I must have missed a part of the conversation, but why do we need another travel pack and armour to lug around?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes, shaking her head at him, as if the answer was obvious.

"It's for Sten, of course," Darcy smiled sweetly, but a small glimmer in her eye revealed that she might have been repressing an eye roll herself.

"Sten? I thought you wanted to do this without enacting conscription, and the Revered Mother said - "

"The Revered Mother can say whatever she wants," Darcy scowled, "I'm going to allow Sten to decide the honourable thing to do."

"Allow a murderer to make decisions regarding honour?" Alistair eye's were incredulous, "Freedom or imprisonment, but oh how will he choose?" he questioned theatrically, but upon seeing Darcy's seriousness, surrendered, "Well, there is that pesky problem that he's locked in a cage. How are we going to get around that?"

"Oh that's the easy part," she grinned, coyly, " we'll be breaking him out of course."

"You're not joking are you?" Alistair couldn't settle between being enamoured or perturbed by her nonchalance.

"I am not."

The sly smile remained on Darcy's lips, her eyes sparkling with excitement. This was the kind of look that made Alistair feel just a little bit nervous. There was no gauging how or why Darcy may react towards something, as she never responded in a way he would expect a woman of nobility might.

"So, um, what's going to be the hard part then?" He had to ask, it was impossible to ignore the bait she had dangled in front of him like a ripe Orlesian cheese.

"Convincing Sten that it is the right thing to do." Darcy stated, casually scratching behind Teebone's ear.

Alistair nodded his head as if in agreement and shrugged, his voice thick with sarcasm, "Hmm, yes, I can see how that would be the difficult part."

"The Qunari are proud, esteemed, and powerful; to leave him to the Darkspawn would be a tragedy. 'Tis very merciful of you to want to free him," Morrigan sniffed, disinterested despite her respect for Darcy's resolution.

"Oh, you do have a heart!" Alistair exclaimed in mock surprise.

Morrigan glared at him disdainfully, returning once more, to the apparently engrossing act, of inspecting her nails.

"On the other hand," he said in a terrible stage whisper to Darcy, "do you really think it's a good idea to carry out a plan that Morrigan approves of?"

"Perhaps, Alistair, if you actually took your role as senior Warden more seriously, you would have a real say in the final decision," Morrigan bit scathingly.

Alistair blushed crimson, holding his tongue. He knew that he had made his lack of interest in commanding no secret amongst the group, finding it much easier to constantly default to Darcy's natural leadership. Her innate ability to inspire courage and loyalty around her, daggers wielded or not, made it all the easier for him to just stand back and allow it to happen.

Rolling her eyes at the two, Darcy turned from the table, "I'm going to see if I can find that merchant." She disappeared without a second glance.

Teebone's nails clicked across the floor as he scrambled out from under the table, stubby tail wagging, to follow his mistress.

* * *

Darcy wished she had told Alistair to wait for them at the town's gates, but she had not, and now they were trying to sneak through the dark town with a heavily armoured man who didn't have the foggiest idea of how to be inconspicuous. Morrigan, having decided that sneaking around in the shadows was not for her, promptly transformed into a raven and circled slowly above their heads.

Every time Darcy and Leliana slipped fluidly from one shadow to the next, Alistair could be heard stomping closely behind, his armour clanging sharply into the night. To make matters worse, he was also carrying the armour and pack intended for Sten she had procured from Bodahn earlier that day, adding even more weight to his already heavy gait. Darcy lugged about the great sword; purchased from the Dwarven merchant as well. It was not in great condition, but it was the best she could buy with their meagre savings, so it would have to suffice. She desperately hoped they did not bump into anyone, not in the mood for confrontation.

Darcy peered around the corner of the house in whose shadows' they concealed themselves. The sight was clear, "Excellent." She breathed, all but completely inaudible; they were almost to the gates. Slipping from cover, she flitted across the alleyway and melted into the darkness of the next house. Leliana followed behind, moving just as silently.

RATTLE!

RATTLE!

CLANK!

CLANG!

RATTLE!

"Ouch!" Darcy hissed under her breath as Alistair stampeded into her, which was quickly becoming an unwelcome regularity during their trek across town.

"Sorry!" Alistair whispered, not at all quiet.

Leliana was trying desperately not to giggle at the hilarity of the situation, still slightly unsure of whether or not she might abruptly wake from this strange dream: Alistair, practically running through town ringing a bell, announcing their mischief; Darcy's carefully arranged blank face revealing her waning patience only through small cracks, and all the while, Morrigan's disapproving 'caws' reigned down from about their heads.

"Did she have to go and turn into a crow?" Alistair complained loudly.

"Raven," Darcy hissed angrily, her serene façade crumbling.

"Huh?"

"She-turned-into-a-raven." Darcy wanted to kill him. She was _going _to kill him.

Leliana couldn't stifle the giggles anymore. She was practically stuffing her entire fist into her mouth to keep herself from making a sound.

"Fine, why did she have to go and turn into a _raven_ then?" Alistair asked sulkily. He knew his lack of shadowy finesse was annoying the unbelievably lithe Darcy. Alistair wasn't a sleuth rogue or a shape-shifting mage, he was a warrior: built for running into battle head-on, none of this sneaking around nonsense. He chose to focus his embarrassment as anger towards Morrigan.

"Does it matter?" Darcy asked in exasperation. They may as well just knock on the doors as they made their way down the street and announce to all they meet that they were up to no good.

Alistair considered for a moment whether or not Morrigan being a raven was, in fact, important, and decided it was.

"Well, yes, I do think it matters. Ravens are so witchy; she could've turned into anything else, but she had to choose a raven. If anyone is going to suspect something is amiss it'll be due to a decidedly overly-talkative, omen-baring bird harassing a group of travellers."

Darcy sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alistair, you doling out criticism pertaining to volume control and subtlety is a little 'blind leading the blind' don't you think? Now will you please -"

Leliana exploded into a fit of giggles, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her sides in an effort to gain control of herself.

"Bunch of amateurs," Darcy grumbled.

Teebone gave a soft, indignant huff and licked his mistress's fingers. At least _he_ knew the importance of being quiet.

"I wasn't giving out advice, I was simply stating-" Alistair looked at the still giggling Leliana.

"Alistair!" Darcy hissed.

He stopped his previous train of thought, "Yes?"

"Shut. Up!"

"Right, got it."

_Maker, give me strength!_ Darcy prayed as they noisily turned the last corner, giving up any attempt at concealment; finally making it to the gates.

* * *

The Qunari stood still in his tiny cage, silently watching the odd group of humans approaching him. They were being very raucous; he would not be surprised if they attract the attention of the other humans.

One bas in particular was making a lot of noise carrying what looked like a large bag over his shoulder. He had the build of a warrior and wore heavy armour with a shield and sword strapped to his back. Perhaps he is a Grey Warden; he certainly looked more like one than the other.

A redheaded woman was holding herself and shaking. These bas are strange creatures, bringing a mad woman with them; they should send her to their Chantry to be re-educated.

The one that had spoken to him last night wore a very impressive scowl and glared angrily at the man and the mad woman. He was still not sure if he should believe this bas claiming to be a Grey Warden. It was too puny and looked too much like a human woman. But, that could not be, because women are shopkeepers, farmers, or priests; they are not warriors and therefore, could not be Grey Wardens. It simply wasn't done.

"You have come," he stared blankly as the tiny warrior approached.

"I have," Darcy answers; removing picks from behind her ear and beginning to fiddle with the lock on the cage.

"That is not a key," Sten frowned.

"It does the job all the same," Darcy answered as the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Sten did not move to leave the cage and simply continued glaring, waiting for the bas to continue. She looked at him expectantly,

"Well?" She made a sweeping gesture with her hand to suggest that he should get out of the cage now.

"Did you manage to negotiate my release with the other humans?"

"Not… exactly, they wouldn't listen to reason." Anger flickered over Darcy's otherwise controlled features.

"Then I cannot go with you," Sten retreated further into the cage and turned his back to the group of humans.

Darcy uttered an impressive curse that made Leliana gasp in shock and Alistair burst into shocked laughter. Morrigan looked unimpressed whilst Teebone sneezed and shook his head.

"Why not? You do not have to die here. Leave with us and earn your redemption by fighting the Blight."

Darcy crossed her arms across her chest and jutted her chin out in stubborn defiance; she was not going to give up that easily.

"An unlocked prison does not make me free," Sten growled.

"Yes it does," Alistair piped up from behind Darcy but was just as quickly silent again.

"Look," Darcy said closing her eyes and sighing heavily, "the Darkspawn are on their way and there will be nothing left of this town come morning. Please come with us; tonight does not need to be your epitaph."

She opened her eyes and looked imploringly at the Qunari, who remained stoic and unaffected by her plea.

"No," he said.

Darcy's ire rose to boiling point and she slammed the cage door shut, the loud ringing sound of metal resonating through the night.

"Very well," she said, looking calm and collected despite not feeling so at all. "Stay if you wish; that is your decision. Just so you know, I think you are a coward."

"I am not a coward," he roared; angered by her false accusations. The Qunari were no cowards!

"I think you are," Darcy continued coolly, completely indifferent to his outburst. "You are being offered a chance to redeem yourself. It is an honourable and courageous task that needs brave soldiers and you are choosing to die in this cage, like an animal instead. You are choosing the easy way out. You are a coward!"

A heavy silence hung in the air and no one moved or said anything for what seemed like a very long time. When it looked like Sten would not be persuaded, Darcy turned to the rest of her stunned companions.

"We should leave, the Darkspawn will be closing in on the town soon," she looked at Alistair for confirmation.

"Yes, I can sense them. We should still be able to avoid the main body of the horde if we leave now." he answered.

Darcy had yet to experience what it was like to sense the Darkspawn. According to Alistair, all Wardens were different: some could sense the Darkspawn straight away while others took a little longer.

"Then we should move."

Darcy took the extra armour and great sword and laid it down next to the cage. Perhaps the stubborn Qunari will come to his senses before it was too late. If not, at least he would have a fighting chance.

" Goodbye Sten."

Darcy gave the Qunari one final nod of her head and started walking down the road heading towards Redcliffe, her three companions and Teebone following behind her wordlessly.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here is chapter 14, kindly edited by mycatisawesome. I'd love to know what you think, so please leave me a review; views, ideas and constructive criticism are all welcome.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

"I think that's all of them," Darcy gasped, breathing heavily as the last Hurlock fell.

They had left Lothering just in the nick of time before the horde had swept into the town like a black ocean tide. Since then, they had encountered several pockets of Darkspawn and were forced to hack and slash their way through them; making the slow and treacherous journey to Redcliffe.

"Maker, that is a lot of blood," Alistair said weakly, staring at a gash on his right thigh.

The Genlock's spiked mace had sliced through his cuisses as if it was made of cheesecloth instead of steel. Morrigan was wordlessly handing out healing draughts and feeling rather drained herself. They would need to make camp soon if they hoped to properly tend to their injuries before collapsing from exhaustion.

It was a miserable group that finally set up camp in a small clearing some distance off the main road. The rain had started up again and they were all cold, wet, and hungry. Unfortunately, not one of them possessed the remaining energy to make a fire, and instead, huddled together under their makeshift cover eating black bread and hard cheese in the rapidly fading light.

Darcy watched Morrigan as she busied herself creating her own camp at the opposite end of their chosen campground from the rest of them. Once her site was set, and their appetites quelled, if only momentarily, the mage had seen to everyone's wounds and injuries: applying healing poultices, and binding those that would take longer to heal.

Morrigan had not really said much since they left the Wilds, and, other than bickering with Alistair, maintained almost constant seclusion. Darcy felt guilty for not having made an attempt to draw her out of her solitude, and determined that now was as good a time as any to rectify the situation.

Morrigan did not look up as Darcy approached, but by the set of her shoulders and the straightening of her back, she knew that the mage had sensed her coming.

"Do you have need of another poultice for your shoulder?" She queried, not pausing to look up.

"No thank you, the current one is still effective." Darcy answered rotating her injury to test it.

"Then how can I be of assistance?" Morrigan asked, upholding her politely neutral, if guarded, tone.

She placed several glass flasks and phials full of herbs and tinctures in one corner of her enclave, and removed her potion making paraphernalia. Finally facing Darcy, she began arranging her wares carefully near the fire in order to make some fresh healing draughts.

"I came to thank you for your help today, actually."

"Oh?" Morrigan was momentarily taken aback; she was not expecting thanks.

"If it hadn't been for you, we would be a lot worse for wear. Besides your aid in battle, your healing poultice and draught knowledge is impressive and makes a difference where it really counts."

"'Tis of no consequence," Morrigan shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with the unforeseen praise. She had only done what is expected of her.

Noting the mage's discomfort, Darcy decided not to push her any further.

"Regardless, I just wanted you to know that I am glad you are here with us."

Morrigan silently nodded, unsure of what to say in response to such words of gratitude. Perhaps she could offer the Warden a smile in return? She looked up to do just so, but found herself alone once more.

* * *

Alistair sat staring into the orange flames of the small campfire. The rain had finally ceased and they managed to get a small fire going before the first watch had begun. Everyone was fast asleep; Darcy had awakened him in the early hours before dawn to take his shift. The night was grey with mist, and through the clouds he could see that dawn was not far away.

Teebone lay as close to the fire as was safe with his head heavy on his paws. Every so often he would twitch in his sleep and give a low growl, probably chasing a rabbit in his dreams.

Alistair wondered if Darcy had had any nightmares yet. Another wonderful perk for being a Grey Warden: vivid dreams of vicious Darkspawn attacks and, due to the Blight, the Archdemon would be featured in every single one of them.

Perhaps he should take Darcy aside at some point and speak to her about the drawbacks of being a Warden. He didn't think that Duncan ever got a chance to talk to her about everything and he hated the image of her going through the process alone.

Feeling a bit hungry, he fished a large wedge of cheese from his travel pack and took a generous bite. Teebone, who instinctively knew whenever food was being consumed, sat up straight and watched Alistair's every move expectantly.

Alistair turned the previous night's events over and over in his mind. He still didn't understand why Darcy had left the Qunari in the cage after she had gone to so much effort to free him. If it had been up to him, he would simply have conscripted the Qunari and be done with it, but Darcy was adamant that Sten should make the choice for himself. She had tried to explain to him the unique ways of the Qunari and had gone into detail about Qunari duty, honour, and pride. He had only listened with half an ear, because the remainder of his focus was far too busy watching her grey eyes, sparkling with a keen intelligence.

He was in trouble. He had never known love before, but he was pretty sure that he could very easily fall in love with Darcy. She was the epitome of what he had ever desired to be: confident and calm. She radiated an inner strength that seemed to draw people to her without even trying. Fearless, she always seemed completely unfettered, or if she was, she was very good at concealing it. There was an air of mystery about her that completely enthralled and engulfed his every thought. To think that he had been afraid for her back at Ostagar was laughable now; she was braver than half the men there, put together. Of course, that was a moot point since those men were all dead now.

He sighed, stuffing another lump of cheese into his mouth and Teebone licked his lips in anticipation.

"Your mistress is pretty amazing, isn't she?"

Alistair felt ridiculous talking to a dog, but as Darcy constantly spoke to him, perhaps Teebone would give him some insight into the enigma that was Darcy Cousland. The mabari stared fixedly at the cheese in Alistair's hand before sparing a glance at Alistair. He wasn't giving up his mistress's secrets for free.

Alistair chuckled, "Fine, fine, I'll give you some  
cheese in return for some information on your mistress. Now, I've heard that cheese isn't good for dogs, so you might as well make it worth your while."

Teebone gave a short sharp bark in reply and waved his stubby tail eagerly.

"Tell me, why did Darcy name you Teebone? Did you steal a juicy steak from the larder or something?"

Teebone's ears perked up and he grinned, panting happily at the memory of that juicy steak.

"You did, didn't you? You're as cunning as your mistress."

Teebone gave a happy bark.

Alistair tossed a small chunk of cheese his way. It didn't even touch the ground before the great hound's massive jaws snapped it right out of the air.

"Where did your mistress learn her wily ways?"

Teebone whined and lay down on his belly with his paws over his muzzle.

"Ah, you're sworn to secrecy then? I should have known. Not even a tiny hint?"

Teebone growled impatiently.

"Fine, be that way."

Alistair tossed another chunk of cheese at Teebone and it disappeared just as quickly as the first bit did.

"Do you think she likes me?"

Teebone canted his head to the left and raised one eyebrow.

"You don't think I'm good enough for her?"

The hound gave an indignant sneeze.

"Oh, that's nice. Thanks a lot. Not even after I gave you some of my cheese? I don't share cheese with just anyone you know."

Teebone snorted and shook his head.

"Well, at least we now know where we stand with each other."

Teebone yipped in agreement.

A sudden rustle in the undergrowth alerted both the man and dog at the same time. Teebone's hackles raised and he gave a low warning growl. Whatever it was, it wasn't Darkspawn. Alistair did not have that, now familiar, twisting feeling in his stomach that told him they were near. It could be raiders or bandits; they were encountering more and more of these lawless men on the road as the Blight grew. He briefly contemplated waking up Darcy, but in the end it wasn't necessary, for she was already walking towards him with a purposeful stride.

"You heard it too?"

"Yes, where did it come from?" Darcy responded without preamble.

"Over there," Alistair turned to point towards the undergrowth, "It's not Darkspawn, but -"

He turned to face Darcy again, but she was no longer there. Squinting his eyes, he tried to look into the dark shadows in vain hope that he would be able to see her, but it was impossible. Like stars before the morning sun, she had vanished from sight.

Grumbling under his breath, he strode towards the thicket where the sound had originated. He may not be stealthy, but he was a capable fighter; he was a trained Templar after all. Sword and shield raised and ready, he advanced cautiously on the bushes.

"You can relax, it's gone." Darcy's voice sounded suddenly behind him.

Alistair yelped and spun around to face her, fighting to keep his hand from clutching at his racing heart.

"Will you stop doing that? You'll kill me long before the Darkspawn ever does," he tried to steady his breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she said innocently, although the slight curl at the corners of her mouth suggested otherwise.

"Sure, tell that to someone who'll believe you," he snorted, "You take far too much pleasure out of making me jump with fright."

She chuckled, "Perhaps."

Alistair couldn't help but smile too. He guessed he deserved a little payback after the previous night's botched attempt at sneaking.

"Did you see what it was then?" he asked.

"It was a wildcat. Teebone gave chase, but I don't think he's going to be successful. He'll be back once he gets bored."

"How do you know it was a wildcat?" Alistair looked at her curiously.

Darcy's smile broadened and beckoned for him to follow. Walking around the shrubbery, Darcy stopped under a tree and leaned down, balancing on her heels.

"There are it's paw prints in the mud, see." she pointed at a spot on the ground next to the tree, but Alistair couldn't really tell the difference between the print and the rest of the mud.

"Um, I don't see anything," he said, his eyes nearly crossing over with concentration.

Darcy chuckled and grabbed his left hand, sliding off his gauntlet along the way.

"Hey, what are you - " he started to protest.

"Here, you can feel the outline of the print with your fingers," She guided his hand across the ridges outlining the print.

"It has large heel pads," she guided his fingers over an almost triangular shaped area, "and four toe pads," she moved his fingers across four smaller oval shaped areas.

"You know it's a cat, because there aren't any claw marks."

Dawn finally started seeping through the leaves and Alistair saw the paw print, perfectly formed in the mud.

"How did you know what to look for?"

Alistair was completely engrossed in his impromptu tracking lesson. Even so, he was acutely aware of the fact that Darcy was still holding on to his hand. He pondered turning his hand over so his fingers could lightly graze the delicate skin of her wrists while she spoke.

"An excellent question," Darcy let go of his hand to point at the trunk of the tree and Alistair found himself wishing that he hadn't asked the question.

"Can you see here where the bark has been scratched away? That was the wild cat marking its territory with his claws." She looked at him, her expression bright and open as the golden light of oncoming dawn warmed them both.

"That is pretty amazing. How do you know all this?"

Alistair had not seen this side of her before. She seemed more relaxed and less guarded somehow. It occurred to Alistair that Darcy kept a very tight control over her emotions, even when she was livid. The only time he had seen her completely lose it was when they were out in the Kocari Wilds, collecting Darkspawn blood for the Grey Warden ritual.

"Father used to take Fergus and me deer stalking in the summer," the obvious joy of the memory was tinged by a note of sadness.

"Harris, the grounds keeper, used to come along too. He was originally from Starkhaven in the Free Marches. He taught me how to properly read the signs left by creatures in the wild."

Alistair felt his heart clench with sorrow. It was so easy to forget that Darcy had lost everything she loved mere weeks ago. She hid her grief well and never really spoke about it, focusing instead on the task at hand. It was in moments like these that he was reminded of the fact that she was just as alone in this world as he was.

"It must have been wonderful, spending time with your father and brother like that." he said softly.

Darcy nodded and smiled wistfully, "Yes, it was. I looked forward to it every summer. Fergus was always so impatient and never got the hang of stalking."

Alistair smiled, "It sounds like we would have gotten along famously."

"Yes, I think you would have. You remind me a little of him, he used to find his own jokes funny too." Darcy grinned cheekily.

"He-ey, I tell good jokes," Alistair huffed.

"I never said you didn't," Darcy laughed.

It was a beautiful sound, her laughter, and Alistair vowed then and there to make her laugh more.

"Come on," Darcy said, "I think I see the others stirring, we should get back."

* * *

Sten bent down and inspected the footprints in the muddy soil. The group of humans had rested here the previous night. He studied the heavy tread of the armoured warrior and the almost invisible gait of the tiny one. He did not care for the mad woman or the saarebas that travelled with them. Once he joined the wardens in their plight, he would demand that the frail human leader bind the saarebas in the proper manner, and give the mad woman back to the Chantry.

Rising from his perch on the ground, he turned from the campsite and headed west. They would not have gone far, so he began running after them at a comfortable pace; Qunari had remarkable stamina and could run for days on end, stopping only to rest and eat.

He had escaped Lothering by the skin of his teeth, battling wave after wave of Darkspawn tirelessly. The small Warden had incited something within he had believed lost along with his Asala. He would show the bas that he was no coward: he was Sten of the Beresaad of the Qunari peoples!

He ran for almost five hours before catching up with the group. Darkspawn were attacking them from all sides; the two Wardens fought well together, working in perfect harmony. The larger warrior would rush a group of Darkspawn wielding his shield like a battering ram and knocking the foul creatures over, while the undersized warden swooped in, striking the enemy with a flurry of swords, only to evanesce into the darkness once more. He was impressed; he had not considered that such a puny thing could be effective in battle.

Even the mad woman and the saarebas were helping, picking the Darkspawn off with well-placed arrows and ice spells. An old merchant's wagon was positioned to one side of the road where two Dwarves cowered behind it. The ox pulling the cart lowed in terror, attempting to escape its harness.

Sten reached for the great sword that the Warden had left for him. Taking a deep breath, he roared his powerful battle cry and charged into battle.

* * *

"There are too many of them, we can't keep this up for much longer," Alistair shouted at Darcy, his arms beginning to feel as if they were slowly filling with lead.

"I know, but we don't have much choice," Darcy violently caressed the surrounding air with her swords, making contact with each strike.

Her face was a mask of concentration as she twirled and twisted, slicing through the abdomen of a Genlock with one sword and piercing the chest of a Hurlock with the other. Both Wardens dove for cover as Morrigan let loose a roaring ball of fire, taking out several of the Darkspawn at once.

"I think we need a plan!" Alistair called to Darcy who had already materialized into the tick of the fight again, killing three more Darkspawn before he even managed to get back on his feet.

"Good idea," Darcy answered.

She ducked under the sweep of a Darkspawn's sword, rolling behind it and sliced through its hamstrings. Falling to the ground, its screams of pain were stopped abruptly as Darcy's sword coolly cut its throat.

"So what's the plan?" Alistair shouted, ramming his shield into a charging Darkspawn before cleaving it down with his sword.

"Keep them busy."

"What?" Alistair had been under the impression that he was already doing that. He glanced about for her, but she had already faded from sight.

He sighed and shook his head before bashing his sword against his shield, drawing as much attention to himself as possible.

"Alright, who ordered death?!" he roared manically before frantically hacking and slashing at the enemy advancing on him.

He was just beginning to wonder what Darcy could be up to when she reappeared at his side.

"Where have you been," Alistair shouted, he could barely audible over the noise of the battle.

"Carrying out the plan, now get back, quickly!"

Darcy cradled several noxious looking jars in a shoulder bag. Grabbing one, she flung it at the Darkspawn and they watched as it exploded with a loud hiss. A poisonous, green cloud billowed up around the Darkspawn and the air was suddenly saturated with a chorus of shrieks and screams as their skin started bubbling and melting off their bones.

Alistair was transfixed at the horrifying scene that was playing out and failed to notice the Genlock training its crossbow on him. Darcy could see what was happening, but she wasn't close enough to warn him. She shouted, but her voice was engulfed by the surrounding chaos. Morrigan and Leliana were still busy picking off stray Darkspawn, unaware of their companion's peril. Darcy fought desperately through the throng of Darkspawn with all of her remaining strength, even as she realized that she would be too late.

Her next pleading shout was drowned out by a sudden fearsome battle cry and she watched as Sten charged the Genlock, severing the head from its body with a sweep of his great sword. Alistair finally snapped out of his stupor at the sound of the Qunari battle cry and managed to dive out of the way just as the crossbow bolt whizzed past his shoulder.

Darcy grinned with relief and rejoined the battle with renewed fervor. The battle was much easier after that and ended soon after Sten's arrival. Sheathing her swords, Darcy picked her way through the Darkspawn corpses and came to a stop in front of Sten. He stared at her in stoic silence for a long, drawn out moment before finally speaking.

"I am not a coward," he growled.

"Prove it," Darcy challenged grinning widely.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi all, my humble apologies for being unable to update last week. My family was struck down with a nasty flu and so I had to play nursemaid, work, study and do all those other everyday duties. Then ****_I_**** caught the flu and I still had to play nursemaid, work, study and do all those other everyday duties... Anyway, we are all better now.**

**I've got two chapters for you, although only the first one is edited by the brilliant mycatisawesome, who is also currently very busy. So, please excuse the terrible grammar and spelling (It's always harder to get right when you write in your second language). **

**I didn't want to go through the entire Redcliffe saga, so I've sort of 'dropped in' on a few of the scenes - hopefully it will be alright like that. **

**If it doesn't work, let me know so I don't make the same mistake next time. I love to hear your thoughts and constructive criticisms, so please leave a review. It helps to keep the inspiration flowing!**

**So, here we go...**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

When the village of Redcliffe finally came into view, there was an almost audible relief from the weary travellers. They had journeyed for most of the morning within view of the iconic red cliffs, a stark relief against the grey, overcast sky.

Darcy struggled against the urge to blindly sprint until she reached the castle desperately craving a warm bath to soak her aching bones and, if she was being selfish with her desires, a soft bed to snuggle into. She only hoped that they would be received in welcome and not hunted like traitors, as Loghain would have the country believe.

As the party closed in on Redcliffe, Alistair became increasingly withdrawn. Darcy knew that he was prone to brooding; his grief for Duncan and the other Grey Wardens was understandable. They had been the first real family he'd had where his status as bastard had not played a factor in his acceptance. She, if anyone, could respect his loss; and had left him to his lament in these moments, offering her support in companionable silence.

This however, was a different mood entirely. He had often been unable to form coherent sentences in front of her lately; she smiled thinking back to their interaction at the Inn, but his once goofy and sarcastic demeanour has transformed into a tense restless. So, after several failed attempts to utter whatever words he seemed unable to admit, Darcy decided it was time to confront him. Slowing her pace, she allowed the others to stride ahead, and fell into step next to Alistair, dragging his behind the rest of the group.

"Are you going to tell me what's on your mind, or am I going to have to torture the truth out of you?" Darcy asked, startling Alistair out of his reverie.

"What? Oh, it's nothing really," he continued to stare at the ground, dejected.

"Alistair, there is obviously something bothering you. You can tell me, whatever it is," she smiled encouragingly.

Alistair sighed, swiping his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"I know, it's just...well, it's hard to talk about."

"I understand," Darcy nodded, "but the discomfort your feeling can be abated by sharing your troubles with a willing friend."

Alistair sighed, "Fine, but you have to promise that you won't act differently around me after I tell you."

"I won't," Darcy scoffed a bit offended, wondering what it could be that was upsetting him so.

"Promise," Alistair insisted.

She smiled and raised her right hand over her heart.

"I give you my _Darcy promise_ that I will not act differently around you."

Alistair's brows rose in scepticism, "Darcy promise?"

Darcy nodded solemnly, "Absolutely, a _Darcy promise_ is the most sacred of promises. It cannot be broken, to do so would be the blackest form of betrayal." She narrowed her eyes for dramatic effect, as if questioning his resolve.

Alistair just stared at her in confusion as she burst into laughter.

"Fergus and I used to make these promises to each other when we were younger and sharing secrets. The most serious secrets elicited a 'Darcy' or 'Fergus' promise, which bode dire consequences if such a promise were to be broken."

Alistair returned her smile with a lopsided grin, understanding the emotions behind the story, and warmed by the thought she would include him in something that was plainly so close to her heart.

"Alright, since you've made a _Darcy promise_ I'll tell you."

He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his mouth, pursing his lips and making his cheeks bowl out. Darcy waited patiently for him to begin.

"Well, you know I'm a bastard, right?" Alistair looked at her for confirmation; she nodded in agreement.

"What you probably don't know is that I'm King Maric's bastard… Making King Cailan my half-brother." He flinched as he said it, expecting Darcy to lash out at him for not revealing this to her earlier, but nothing happened; she just regarded him with her usual cool calmness.

She didn't have the heart to tell him that she already assumed as much. Somehow, she knew it would bother him if he realized she had guessed his heritage upon the first day of meeting him.

"I suppose if you're going to be someone's bastard, you may as well be the king's bastard, right?" She eyed him curiously with a small grin.

Alistair was stumped; he had at least thought she would be angry with him for not telling her from the start. Did it really not matter to her?

"Yeah, I guess I'm royalty if you look at it that way," he smiled and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, feeling embarrassed for having worried so tirelessly.

Darcy curtsied deeply, "Well, come on your Royal Highness, the others are leaving us in the dust!"

With that, she darted off leaving Alistair to chase after her.

"You didn't really mean to torture the truth out of me did you?" he smirked, feigning hesitancy.

She turned around, lightly keeping pace, and cocked an eyebrow at him.

"How sure are you about that?" she laughed and twirled around again, running after the others, and left a baffled Alistair to ponder her words.

With Darcy, anything was possible.

* * *

It was with much trepidation that Darcy neared the panic-stricken youth on the bridge at the entrance to Redcliffe village. Something did not feel right and she didn't like it.

"Are you here to help us? Maker, please tell me you are here to help us!" The boy was beside himself with panic.

"Oh wonderful, didn't we just leave all the moaning and gnashing of teeth behind in Lothering?" Morrigan grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"We're here to help," Darcy held an even tone to settle him; she needed information, quickly. "First tell me your name," she spoke in a clear, calm voice that commanded to be abided, and seemed to lessen the boy's anxiety slightly.

"I-it's Tomas, my lady," he stuttered.

Darcy nodded approvingly, "Good, Tomas, my name is Darcy and this is Alistair," she gestured to Alistair who was standing next to her.

The others were standing a little further back next to the Bodahn's cart. The merchant had decided to cast his lot in with the Grey Wardens after they had rescued him from the Darkspawn's attack the previous day.

"Now, will you tell us what has been happening, Tomas?" She asked, gesturing with her hand that he should continue.

Tomas wasted no more time.

"The village is under attack! No one knows what has happened, but every night un-dead creatures will emerge from the castle and attack the village. We have tried defending ourselves, but they are too many; if one falls, two more will take its place."

"Walking corpses?" Leliana eyes grew large, "Do you suppose it's something in the water?" She whispered to Sten who gave her an odd look and sidestepped to his left in an attempt to distance himself from the mad woman.

"Where is the Arl's militia? Are they not defending you?" Alistair asked, alarmed.

"That is the trouble, ser, most of the soldiers were at Ostagar and those that remained were at the castle. Very few were stationed in the village, along with the Chantry's Templars, and we lost many men in last night's battle." Tomas answered, his voice full of despair.

"Then you must take us to Arl Eamon." Darcy remained collected, not wanting the young man to start panicking again.

Tomas stared at Darcy with a horror-struck expression, "Maker, does no one know?" He cried, grabbing fistfuls of his hair in utter desperation.

"Does no one know what?" Darcy the sense of foreboding she had felt earlier settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach.

"Arl Eamon has not been seen for over a week. He has taken ill, some say he was poisoned, but no one really knows." Tomas explained, on the verge of hysteria again.

"Well, who is in charge then? Surely there is someone?" Darcy's patience beginning to wane, replaced by irritation of receiving such important information so late.

"It's Bann Teagan, my lady, the Arl's brother. He is currently in the Chantry which has become our base of operations," Thomas helpfully supplied after noting the hint of irritation in Darcy's voice.

"Very good," Darcy nodded in approval; "Please, will you take us to him."

Tomas nodded eagerly and led the way down the cliff-side path towards the Chantry.

* * *

Teagan pinched the bridge of his nose as Ser Perth informed him of the latest in a series of bad news he had received since that morning. He had a pounding headache that would not let up and hadn't slept in days. So, his interest was understandably not piqued when the odd group of travellers were led into the room by Tomas, stopping in front of him without his notice.

"Bann Teagan, these people are here to speak with you." Tomas dutifully announced.

Teagan glanced up and looked at the formidable group standing in front of him. There was a petite woman dressed in light, leather armour favoured by rogues. She had unruly auburn hair and striking grey eyes that seemed familiar somehow. Next to her stood a fair haired young man in heavy armour that also looked very familiar, but he couldn't tell where he had seen the man before. Behind them stood a haughty looking woman with blue-black hair and pale yellow eyes, dressed in what could only described as a few strips of leather, and another smaller woman with red hair and a serene expression. He had to crane his neck up to look at the hulking figure that stood, scowling behind the rest of the group. Maker, was that a Qunari? Teagan had to remind himself to close his mouth to stop gaping at the giant man.

"Bann Teagan, it is good to see you again, although, you probably do not remember me. The last time we saw each other I was much younger and probably covered in mud," the young man said by way of introduction.

Teagan frowned, "Mud?" He asked, mostly murmuring to himself, and then it struck him, "Alistair, is that you?" He asked incredulously.

"In the flesh," Alistair grinned and gave a mock bow.

"Maker, it is good to see you," Teagan exclaimed, giving the young man a hearty pat on the shoulder, causing his steel spaulders to clank loudly, "though I fear you come at a rather desperate time."

"So we have been informed by Tomas," Alistair nodded, "he claims that Arl Eamon has taken ill."

Teagan's mouth pressed into a grim line, "It is true, although the suddenness of the illness suggests foul play."

"You think this was an attempt on his life?" Worry plastered Alistair's features.

"Indeed. I was informed of Eamon's illness a little over a week ago. I immediately made arrangements and left Rainesfere. When I arrived, these un-dead creatures had already attacked the village once. They resemble humans, but they're just empty husks," he shuddered.

"We must help these poor people," Leliana said resolutely.

Morrigan rolled her eyes, "One would think that we have reached our quota of goodwill these past few days," she sniffed.

Teagan gave the scantily clad woman a wary glance before returning his attention to Alistair.

"Redcliffe would be forever in your debt if you could help us defend the village from another attack." Teagan was at this point not beyond begging and this group of people seemed like capable fighters.

Alistair looked a little uncomfortable and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stand up in short little spikes.

"I would of course help, Teagan, but it is not just up to me. I am a Grey Warden now and our task is to raise an army to quell the Blight. We had come here to seek an alliance with Arl Eamon, but that does not seem possible now."

Teagan felt the last of his hope ebb away and sagged his shoulders, "Then I cannot rely on your help." He could not help showing his disappointment.

"Of course we will aid your people in any way we can," the small woman with the striking eyes spoke, stepping out from behind Alistair.

The dark haired woman did not look impressed, nor did the Qunari, who's scowl deepened, if it were possible, but the redheaded woman seemed pleased and clapped her hands.

"I'm sorry, I do not believe we have met, though you seem familiar to me," Teagan addressed the grey-eyed woman, "are you a Grey Warden too?"

He could hardly believe that the girl, for, really she could be no more than seventeen summers at the most, was one of the legendary Grey Wardens. She gave him a small smile and nodded, offering her hand in greeting.

"I am. My name is Darcy; it is an honour to meet you. I do not believe we have met personally, though you may have known my father, Teyrn Cousland."

"You're Bryce's little girl?" Teagan asked, astounded.

The last he had heard of Darcy Cousland, she had been shipped off to finishing school in Orlais to tame her unruly behaviour. He knew now where he had seen that striking grey stare before; her father had those very same eyes.

"Yes, Bann Teagan, my father spoke very highly of you." Darcy smiled politely.

Teagan smiled, finishing school obviously did the trick; she knew how to flatter with words like only a true noble woman could.

"Tell me, how is Teyrn Cousland these days?" Teagan implored; he greatly admired the charismatic Teyrn of Highever.

Something flashed behind the calm silver of her eyes, but it was so sudden that Teagan wasn't sure if he had imagined the event.

"Forgive me Bann Teagan, but I believe that is a story for another time. Why not tell us how we can be of assistance to you. I am sure that this situation must be of great distress to you." Darcy deftly sidestepped the subject of her family, by reminding Teagan of the issue at hand.

"Of course, forgive me, my lady, it has been a very long day for me," Teagan silently chastised himself for wasting time on idle chitchat when there was so much to be done.

"You must speak with Mayor Murdock, he currently heads the militia, or what is left of it; I believe he is having some trouble with the blacksmith. Then there is Ser Perth, currently in charge of the Templars, I believe there are a few issues with morale."

Darcy nodded, taking in all the information with a determined expression, "Very well, we know what to do and will get right to it. It is already noon and we do not have much time before the sun sets. I will report back to you once I have an update for you."

With that, she turned and strode towards the heavy oak doors of the Chantry. The rest of the group followed after her, voicing their various opinions on the matter in one inharmonious clamour.

Bann Teagan watched after them. Maker, he hoped they would all make it out of this alive.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 is not edited, so I apologise for any grammar/spelling mistakes.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

Teagan watched, amused, as Darcy scolded the Qunari for challenging her decisions, yet again. He had learned from Alistair that there was a tentative alliance between the Qunari and Darcy after freeing him from prison in Lothering. Teagan had a suspicion that there was more to it, but Alistair's not so subtle avoidance of the subject made it clear that he was not going to learn anything else. The Qunari tried his hardest to intimidate the small woman, but Darcy just regarded him with stoic silence after which the Qunari would scowl and stride off to do as he was bid.

He had also learned, from Alistair, that Darcy did not attend finishing school in Orlais as he had assumed, but had instead gone to Antiva, which was a strange place to send a young woman of nobility. Antiva was renowned for their backwards politics. It was considered good luck if an assassination attempt was made on your life! He knew of course that Darcy's brother had married an Antivan noble woman, so perhaps there was more to Antiva than he had once cared to think.

These last few hours had been spent watching Darcy shape the villagers into battle ready soldiers, like a war hardened general. Owen , the blacksmith was working his forge with such fervour that the whole town was soon clad with repaired armour and weapons in no time. Dwyn and his mercenaries were busy sharpening their swords looking none too pleased to be there and even Lloyd, the tavern keeper, was wielding a heavy looking club.

Darcy had come to him a short while ago after uncovering the conspiracy against Arl Eamon. Darcy had discovered an Elven spy in the Tavern and after a few persuasive words from her, the Elf had admitted that Loghain was behind the attack and that the Arl was indeed poisoned. A few more choice words from Darcy and the Elf found himself among the soldiers, wielding his bow and arrows and looking surly.

Teagan watched Alistair tail after Darcy with a love-struck expression on his face. Darcy was either oblivious to the fact, or chose to ignore it; Teagan wasn't sure. Alistair was not the only one who was in awe of her, Ser Perth and Murdock both seemed to sing her praises and Teagan had to admit that he himself was a little awed by Darcy.

Teagan would write to Teyrn Cousland as soon as he possibly could to congratulate him on his well-rounded daughter. Teagan even entertained thoughts of asking for her hand in marriage. She would be magnificent as a wife and the pride of any nobleman. Of course, he was kidding himself; Darcy was the daughter of a Teyrn and destined to marry the son of an Arl or even a king! Why would she even consider a lowly Bann such as himself?

"Bann Teagan!"

The sound of his name startled him out of his musings and found himself staring into the quicksilver eyes of Darcy Cousland.

"M-my lady, how can I be of service?" He stumbled over his words like a foolish adolescent boy.

"You seemed far away just then, I called your name three times before you answered," she smiled.

"Forgive me, I was merely thinking of what tonight may bring," he lied shamelessly.

Darcy nodded, "Yes, I understand. This must be difficult for you; not knowing the well-being of your brother and his family."

"It is difficult my lady," he agreed, " I have to admit that I fear the worst. If Loghain has succeeded with his plan to be rid of Eamon, there will be no one to oppose his regency."

"I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that Loghain does not succeed," Darcy said with grim determination. "Come on, the sun has nearly set and the people would like to hear a few words from you." She nudged him gently in front of her and followed him out to the awaiting crowd.

* * *

So many dead bodies, Darcy thought as she surveyed the aftermath of the previous night's battle. She ran her fingers through her hair only for them to get tangled in all the knots and gore that clung to her hair.

The battle had raged all night and at one point they were so overrun with these un-dead creatures that Darcy thought they were not going to make it. Had it not been for those oil barrels they had discovered inside the deserted shop, they would most certainly not have turned the tide in their favour.

She watched as two villagers laid the body of Tomas next to the others that lost their lives that night. Her heart ached at the sight of his broken body. He was so young, how many more would die before all this was done? She felt angry that so much unnecessary blood had been spilt in the name of politics and greedy men with a lust for power. She would see that justice was done, for her family, for Tomas and for everyone that had lost their lives.

"Ah, there you are," Alistair's voice sounded next to her, "Teagan is up by the old mill and wanted to speak to us. Come on, the rest are already waiting for us there." He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly through his mouth, "Mmmm, don't you just love the smell of fish and death in the morning?"

Darcy knew that making bad jokes was his way of dealing with the horrible events of the previous night, but just then, she was in no mood to humour him, so, she chose to ignore his comment.

"What does Teagan want to discuss?" Darcy asked having to jog to keep up with Alistair's long strides.

"I'm not sure, but it looked like it could be serious judging by the grave look on his face." Alistair answered.

Darcy suspected that Teagan wanted to discuss strategy for how to get into the castle. Now that they have survived the night's attack of the walking dead, they had until dusk to infiltrate the castle and get to the bottom of whatever it was that was causing these attacks.

She had briefly spoken to Morrigan about the possibility of magic being involved and the witch had agreed that it did indeed sound like blood magic.

Teagan wasted no time with pleasantries when Darcy and Alistair arrived and started explaining the situation to them.

"I think it would be best if I approached from the main gate, while you enter the castle via the old mill." Teagan explained.

"The old mill?" Darcy asked, "Is there a hidden entrance to the castle in the mill?"

"Indeed, my lady," Teagan answered handing her his signet ring, "my ring will open the passage for you and you will enter from the dungeon."

"Hmph," Sten snorted, "either this is a trap, or the defenders of this castle are idiots. I suspect both." He said with disgust, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Sten did not understand why the tiny warrior insisted on helping these people when there were no Darkspawn here; clearly there was no reasoning with humans!

Teagan gave the giant a dubious look and was about to continue with an explanation of his plan when a heavily accented female voice called his name.

"Teeeaaagaaaan!"

They all turned to watch a fair haired woman, dressed in finery, hurry up the hill towards them with two guards in tow.

"Lady Isolde," Teagan said in surprise, "are you alright? What of Connor and Eamon?"

"Oh Teagan," she wailed " thank the Maker you are still alive! Oh, it is so awful," she fell into his arms and sobbed bitterly.

"There, there," Teagan patted her shoulder awkwardly, "tell me what has happened. How did you get out of the castle?"

She sobbed louder, "Teagan, you must come with me, he has asked for you, Connor is asking for his uncle, oh Teagan you must come!"

Darcy did not like this one bit. There was something suspicious going on here and the entire encounter screamed 'trap'. She could not let Teagan just blindly follow this woman back to the castle, even if she was the Lady Isolde.

"We will come too," Darcy said, gesturing to herself and her companions.

Isolde looked up from Teagan's shoulder in surprise as if this was the first time she saw the rest of the people standing with Teagan.

"Teagan, who are these people?" she asked with her nose scrunched up as if she had smelled something bad. Her eyes flitted briefly over Alistair in recognition, but she did not let on that she knew who he was.

"Come now, Lady Isolde, you must remember me, Alistair," Alistair said bowing low and voice dripping with sarcasm. He had not missed the flicker of recognition in her eyes and certainly he had not forgotten the way she had treated him when he was still living here as Arl Eamon's ward.

"Ah, yes, I remember now," she answered coldly, dismissing him with a flick of her hand before turning her attention back to Teagan.

"Teagan, we must hurry, Connor needs you, please."

"Teagan, something is not right here," Darcy warned softly.

"Who is this woman, Teagan?" Isolde asked; utter disgust played on her face as she looked at Darcy.

"She is a Grey Warden, my lady, as is Alistair; I owe them my life and those of every villager in Redcliffe." Teagan said.

"Oh, well forgive me," Isolde answered; her features now graced with a fake smile, though her voice was still icy, "but we do not have much time, Connor is not well. Teagan you must come, now." she pulled at his arm.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Darcy asked, her own voice icy. Her grey eyes pinned the older woman with a steely gaze.

"I told you, Connor is not well and we do not have much time," Isolde answered looking mildly intimidated by the younger woman.

Darcy shook her head, not convinced, "There is more to this. Please explain." She said crossing her arms in a stance that brooked no argument.

There seemed to be a sort of stand-off between the women as each tried to stare the other down, but Isolde quickly relented under Darcy's unwavering gaze and she looked away, her shoulders sagging.

"I do not know how much is safe to explain," she said softly. "There is a blood mage in the castle and he is the one who poisoned my beloved Eamon and caused the dead to rise again. He has been caught and imprisoned, but still it continues and Connor, oh Teagan, I think Connor is going mad. He has seen so much death these last few days." she started crying again.

Morrigan touched Darcy's shoulder lightly and spoke quietly into her ear.

"It is a blood mage as we have suspected. I fear that the mage might be possessed and if that is the case, then this will not stop until the mage is killed."

Darcy nodded gravely; this was indeed dire news.

"Teagan, may I speak with you a moment." Darcy asked and walked some distance away from the group until she was satisfied that Isolde would not be able to hear what she had to say.

Teagan followed behind her, knowing full well what she was going to say, but he knew he had to go with Isolde; it would give Darcy and her companions a chance to enter the castle unnoticed.

"Teagan, you cannot go in there alone. Something is not right here, Isolde isn't telling us everything and you may be walking in there only to meet your death. We suspect a demon is at work here; please, rethink this." she beseeched him.

Fear prickled at the back of his neck at the mention of a demon, but he shook his head resolutely. "I must go with Lady Isolde. This way, if it is a trap, you still have a chance to stop what is really going on here. I can keep them distracted while you enter through the old mill."

Darcy knew grim determination when she saw it and knew that she would not be able to persuade him. She simply nodded and squared her shoulders.

"I promise I will do my best to get you all out of this alive."

Teagan smiled, fighting the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her plump lips.

"I already owe you my life, my lady, but it is good to know that you will be there."

She smiled at him and nodded firmly; determination flashing in her steely gaze. Together they walked back to where the others were waiting.

"Very well, Isolde," Teagan said, offering the woman his arm which she clutched with a death grip, "let us go see my nephew." He looked back once before leading the distraught woman back down the path.

"Maker be with you," Darcy said as she watched them leave.

"So what do we do now?" Alistair asked looking expectantly at the rest of the group.

"We infiltrate the castle through the dungeons and put a stop to whatever is going on in there before tonight." Darcy answered.

"Ah yes, more death, coming right up," Alistair sighed.

"I do not like this," Sten grumbled, "let us leave. There are no Darkspawn here for us to kill."

"I do not like it either, Sten, but this cannot be avoided. We need the Arl's support if we have a hope of gathering an army against the Blight." Darcy answered.

"You humans are too complicated, I will never understand you." he grumbled, but hefted his heavy great sword onto his back and marched towards the old mill's entrance.

* * *

Of all the decisions Darcy has had to face in her life, this was the one decision she had hoped never to have to make. Why did it fall to her; what right did she have to decide the fate of a young boy's life?

It had been the one thing she had always failed in during her training. Her _mentore, _El Cuervo, constantly reminded her that an assassin could not afford to be led by their heart. So, Darcy learned, instead, to hide her true feelings deep within her where no one could see them. With time, she was able to fool even the _mentore_ and could laugh when instead she wanted to cry, smile politely when she was consumed with rage and kill when she wanted to save.

They had entered the castle through the old mill as had been discussed and had faced more walking corpses, also finding the blood mage responsible for it all. Only, the mage had a very different story to tell than the version Isolde had given them.

The mage readily admitted that he was paid by Loghain to poison the Arl in return for the freedom of mages from the Circle. Darcy had scoffed at the gullibility of the mage; there was no way that Loghain could make good on that promise, since the Circle was governed by the Chantry and not by the king.

The mage also informed them that the Lady Isolde had hired him to tutor her son, Connor, who had shown signs of magic ability. And now, between the foolish acts of a mage and the desperate acts of a mother, a boy was possessed by a demon and faced certain death.

When Darcy and her companions had finally fought their way to the great hall, it was to find Teagan doing cartwheels for the entertainment of a possessed nine year old boy.

The child, upon seeing them, had commanded the enthralled guard and Teagan to kill them and Darcy and her companions were forced to defend themselves. Darcy managed to knock Teagan unconscious, with the pommel of her sword, but some of the guard were not so lucky and added to the already huge pile of dead bodies.

The demon, speaking through Connor had demanded to know what Darcy was doing there and had spewed vile words at her and his mother before being knocked unconscious by a powerful sleeping spell casted by an apathetic Morrigan. She had merely shrugged at everyone's questioning stares and proceeded to inspect her nails with great interest.

With the boy now asleep, they had gathered together to discuss the situation.

"There is no other way, Connor must die to stop the possession," Alistair said feeling nauseated for even suggesting it, but if his Templar training had taught him anything, it was that there was no reversal for possession.

Darcy was surprised that Alistair would suggest killing the boy. Of all her companions, she had thought that he would protest such a decision.

"This is what happens if you do not bind your mages in the proper manner," Sten interjected, looking accusingly at Darcy and feeling vindicated that he had been proven right.

"As much as it pains me to admit, I fear that Alistair is correct in this matter. There is no cure for possession; the boy must die." Morrigan added sounding bored.

"No, you cannot kill my son! Please, he is only a boy," Isolde sobbed miserably, cradling her sleeping son in her arms.

"There must be some other way," Leliana said, patting the distraught woman gently on her back for comfort.

They all turned to look at Darcy who had up to now not said a word. Every time she thought of killing Connor, the dead, staring eyes of her little nephew, Oren, flashed through her mind. How could she kill a child? She felt like running away; she would rather face the Archdemon than decide the fate of a child.

"There must be another way, surely," she said softly.

"The mage," Teagan suggested, his voice sounding rough with emotion. "He is still locked up in the dungeon, is he not?"

Darcy nodded, "Yes, please, bring him here so that we can hear what he has to say," she asked Ser Perth, who had arrived shortly after Darcy and her companions in the great hall.

Ser Perth nodded and ordered two of his Templars to fetch the mage from the dungeon.

A long ten minutes passed in silence, only broken by Isolde's soft crying, before the Templars reappeared with the mage walking, head down, between the two of them. Darcy squared her shoulders and turned to face the forlorn looking mage. She was furious at him; if he had not been so naive, then they would not be in this situation now.

"Jowan, is it?" Darcy asked without introduction. Her voice was cold and hard; she wanted this mage to understand that she would not stand for any of his games. She needed to know if this boy could be saved without anyone else having to lose their life.

"Yes, I am Jowan," he answered hesitantly, his voice sounding hoarse.

"I need you to tell me if there is any way to save this boy's life whilst still being rid of this demon that possesses him." Darcy held his eyes with her own, making sure that he understood her unspoken warning; tell anything but the truth and you will lose your life.

Jowan swallowed hard, trying, but not succeeding in breaking eye contact with the young woman's penetrating gaze.

"Th-there might be a slight chance that his life may be saved." Jowan started, his throat was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Please, elaborate," Darcy said.

"Well, I don't think it is a true possession. What I mean is, I don't think that Connor has consciously allowed the demon to take possession. If that is true, there is a possibility that the demon can be killed without killing Connor." Jowan rambled, eliciting a hopeful gasp from Isolde.

"How do we do that?" Darcy asked, not allowing hope to penetrate her defences.

"Well, there is only one way. It would require a mage to enter the fade and kill the demon there, but the mage's powers must be augmented; a mage's powers alone would not be great enough." Jowan said, feeling nervous; he knew what he had to say next.

"Carry on," Darcy said impatiently.

"We will require more than one mage; one to perform the ritual and one to enter the fade. There is one more thing, in order to augment the mage's powers we would need copious amounts of lyrium, which is something we do not have readily available here."

"And how do you propose we perform this ritual without the use of lyrium?" Darcy pressured him, already dreading the answer.

Jowan paused for a moment, relenting quickly when he saw Darcy fingering the small dagger at her hip, "I-I can per-perform a blood magic ritual, b-but it will require the offering of another's life." he said in a rush.

Silence stretched between the group of people as they considered all that was said. Darcy felt helpless, not knowing what choice to make. She could take the life of an innocent boy, or take the life of another to save an innocent boy. Could she ask Morrigan to risk her own life to enter the fade and kill a demon? Would Morrigan be willing?

"We can go to the Circle and ask for some lyrium and the help of some mages," Alistair exclaimed, "the Circle is only a day's travel from here by boat if you go straight across the lake."

Alistair felt proud of himself for coming up with that idea and looked expectantly at Darcy, but his smile faltered when he saw her shake her head sadly.

"I'm sorry Alistair, we cannot risk another day. Time is not on our side here and we cannot allow this demon any more time. What if more of those corpses attack the village tonight?" Darcy said, hating herself for not being able to go with Alistair's suggestion.

Alistair nodded grimly and said nothing further. He felt disappointed that his suggestion was not heeded and even though he knew that Darcy's words made sense, he couldn't help but think that she was wrong in her decision.

Darcy turned to face the people gathered around her, all waiting expectantly for her to make the final decision.

"I cannot in good conscious ask another to offer up their own life in exchange for Connor's." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she fought for control over her emotions. "Connor must die."

"No!" Isolde screamed, "Please you cannot kill my son."

"I will do it," Teagan said stepping forward, "Use my blood for your ritual."

"No, Teagan," Isolde said, standing up on shaky legs with help from Leliana, "I will do it. I am his mother and it is my duty to protect my son, even if it costs me my life."

"Isolde," Teagan began, "what of Eamon?"

"Eamon will have his son," Isolde answered, her voice sounding more resolute by the moment. "Please, it is my fault and I should pay the consequences for my actions. If anyone should lose their life, it should be me." She looked at Darcy with imploring eyes.

Darcy's respect for the woman rose in that moment. Isolde had been foolish to keep her son's magic a secret and now she had to pay for those consequences, but Darcy couldn't help but wonder at what lengths she, herself, would have gone to, to save the life of her own son. Still, Darcy could not expect Morrigan to enter the fade and kill a demon; Darcy would go herself, if she had been able to.

"We still need another mage and I cannot ask Morrigan -" Darcy began.

"I'll go," Morrigan said stepping forward. "I fear no demon."

"Are you sure?" Darcy asked.

Morrigan gave her a lingering stare, "I would not have offered to do it if I was not sure. I know what I must do."

Bands of ice encircled her heart, as she hardened herself against the raging emotions that warred within her; screaming at the injustice of it all. Taking a deep breath and keeping her cool façade in place, she nodded.

"Very well, we should make the necessary preparations." Darcy said.

* * *

**There may be one more chapter if I can finish it by Sunday. After that, I may not be able to post a new chapter until after the 16th of April, because I have another assignment to finish, but I promise to not be gone for too long.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi everyone, here is Chapter 17 as promised. It has been very kindly beta'd by the very lovely EchoesOfSilence, for which I am very thankful.**

**So this is the last chapter for a bit until my assignment is done. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a review. Thank you to all of you who read, review and follow.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

Alistair was upset, to say the least. He was still trying to erase the previous night's events from his mind. When he had learned that a demon had possessed Connor, he had felt loss and sorrow; knowing what the outcome would be. He never had the opportunity to get to know Connor, but he still counted the boy as family - sort of.

Despite the fact that killing a child went against everything he stood for, Alistair had known that there was nothing anyone could do. Everyone had agreed that this was the right thing to do; everyone, except Darcy who didn't seem to have an opinion. She simply watched pensively as the rest of them debated what to do, which had seemed a little bit odd at the time. Darcy was usually the one that took control in these sorts of matters.

After fetching the mage from the dungeon and questioning him for an alternative, Alistair's hope had soared. They could go to the Circle and get some lyrium and another mage to perform the ritual that would kill the demon and save Connor. Surely this was the best thing to do and he knew that Darcy would agree with him...right? Wrong.

With the same calm expression that she usually wore, she had explained why this was not the best course of action and that killing Connor was their only option. At the time, he had thought, although grudgingly, that her reasoning made sense, but after lying in his bed all night, mulling it all over again, he couldn't help but think that her reasoning had been flawed. Why couldn't they just ask Morrigan to stay behind to make sure that Connor did not wake from his induced sleep? The more he had thought about it, the more upset and angry he had gotten over it. Even when the use of blood magic was suggested, Darcy had still been hesitant.

The thought of using blood magic had repulsed him. The years he had spent under the care of the Chantry had left its mark, but even he knew that it was a better alternative than to killing Connor. So why did Darcy hesitate when Isolde had offered up her own life for the ritual, which, by his reasoning was the right thing to do, since she was responsible for the entire mess in the first place?

After working himself up into a fit of rage, he had gotten out of bed in search of Darcy so that he could confront her about it. She wasn't in her room. Of course not! Feeling a bit lost after the anticlimactic end to his rage, he had slunk off back to his own room to brood some more.

This morning he had searched everywhere for her. He still couldn't find her anywhere until he had made his third tour of the castle keep and had inadvertently spotted her across the bailey when he looked out a window. He nearly had heart failure when he realised just why he couldn't find her. She was perched, like a cat, on top of the roof of one of the round towers that formed part of the castle's defence!

"Holy Maker, how did she even get up there?" He cried, watching in horrified fascination as she leaned over the edge to get a better view of whatever was going on down below.

"Alistair, are you alright?" Leliana asked and came over to stand next to him.

"Uh, yes, I'm fine, but I don't think Darcy will be if she doesn't move away from the edge," he answered; his eyes still fixed on Darcy, who was now swinging her legs back and forth over the edge of the roof.

"Ah, there she is; I was wondering where she had got to this morning," Leliana exclaimed and gave a little giggle.

Alistair managed to tear his eyes away from Darcy's distant figure to stare incredulously at Leliana.

"How can you be so calm? She could fall off there at any minute and kill herself!" he gestured wildly towards where Darcy was still sitting.

"Silly Alistair," Leliana giggled again, "Darcy will not fall; can't you see how comfortable she is? That tells me that she is quite capable of keeping herself safe up there. You have no need to worry," she patted his arm lightly.

Alistair gave a frustrated huff, shaking his head and returned his gaze to the tower's roof, feeling only marginally appeased.

"Of course she will be alright, for she is Darcy Cousland, fearless battle maiden, slayer of ogres and saviour of men," he grumbled sarcastically under his breath.

"Alistair?"

"Hmm?" he grunted; wishing that Leliana would leave him alone so that he could brood some more.

"I can see that you are conflicted over something. Why don't you tell me what is bothering you, perhaps I can help."

Alistair gave a derisive snort and looked out of the window again. Thankfully, Darcy had moved away from the edge and was sitting cross-legged, staring into the distance.

"I just don't understand why Darcy was so willing to kill Connor!" he blurted out. "She just stood there and calmly reasoned that killing a child was the best option; even after an alternative was offered. I want to know why she would do that."

"Ah, now I see," Leliana giggled; blue eyes sparkling in the light coming in from the window.

"And what is it you see?" Alistair asked irritated by her silly manner.

"I see that reality has finally caught up with your fantasy," she said smiling brightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alistair asked; frowning in confusion.

"Simply that your fondness for Darcy has somewhat blinded you to the fact that she is fallible and makes mistakes like any other person." Leliana was still smiling brightly, but there was a hint of gravity to the tone of her voice now.

"Y-you know?" Alistair asked, feeling himself blush.

Maker, did they all know? Did Darcy know?

"Of course," she was giggling again, "it is clear for all to see; I think it is very sweet."

"Wonderful, so everyone has been laughing at me behind my back," he muttered irritably.

"Don't be silly, Alistair, no one is laughing at you; like I said, I think it is sweet," she patted him playfully on the shoulder.

"So, do you think she made a mistake then?" Alistair asked; curious to know what Leliana thought on the matter.

She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head, "No, I believe she made the right decision in the end."

"How can you say that?" Alistair asked in exasperation. "Not only was she willing to kill a boy, but she... she killed his mother without even blinking!" He started pacing in front of the window in agitation.

He gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered the previous night's events.

_Once all the preparations for the blood magic ritual was complete, Isolde was led into the chamber by Teagan like a lamb to slaughter. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying; her skin was pale and wan and though she trembled as she walked into the chamber, her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders squared._

_A small part of him had felt envious of Connor. What would it have been like to have a mother that loved him so much that she would willingly lay down her life to save him?_

_Candlelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls as Jowan, Morrigan and Isolde took their positions; Jowan and Morrigan on opposite sides and Isolde in the middle of a glyph drawn on the floor._

_The whole thing had made Alistair's skin crawl, but it was Darcy's actions that shook him to his core. At Jowan's command, Darcy had walked over to stand behind Isolde where she was kneeling. She bent down and whispered something in Isolde's ear, before straightening and pulling a dagger from its sheath at her hip. In one smooth action she had pulled Isolde's head back and drew the blade across her neck, allowing the blood to spurt in a wide arc across the room as Jowan chanted and Morrigan fell unconscious to the ground._

_It was Darcy's blank expression that had bothered him. It was alright killing Darkspawn and those who would do harm to you, but to show no emotion while you slice through the neck of a helpless woman was something else entirely._

"So," Leliana said bringing Alistair back to the present, "you judge Darcy because she showed no remorse for taking another's life?"

Alistair frowned, "Well, don't you think it is a little disturbing how she can just kill someone like that?"

Leliana regarded him pensively before turning to watch Darcy through the window.

"What do you think the outcome would have been if we did go to the Circle for lyrium?" she asked quietly.

"Well, it may have taken a little while longer, but at least no one would have had to die."

Why was he the only one that could see how this would've been the better outcome?

"How can you be so sure of that?" Leliana countered, "To leave here while the demon was still in control of Connor would have been a terrible risk to take would it not?"

"Morrigan could have stayed and made sure he did not wake up, surely she-"

"Morrigan is one mage, Alistair. What if she failed to induce sleep a second time? Would you have trusted the blood mage to help if the demon had overpowered her? More importantly, do you trust Morrigan that much?" Leliana turned to face Alistair.

Her voice never lost its sweetness, nor did her smile falter, but her eyes flashed with a hint of anger.

"I... uh..." Alistair spluttered.

"And suppose we did manage to get to the Circle and back without incident, do you think the Chantry would've let this go unnoticed? What do you think would have happened to Isolde? What of Arl Eamon's standing amongst his peers? If this scandal became common knowledge, he would be disgraced and no one would back him against Loghain. Where would that leave us? Darcy had to consider all of these things before she made a decision."

Alistair was stumped; he'd never really thought of it like that before, to be honest, it made his head spin just thinking about it all.

"I guess we didn't have as many options as I'd thought," he mumbled, looking at his scuffed boots.

Leliana smiled and returned to watching Darcy, still sitting on the roof and staring out over the scene below her.

"She has been on that roof all morning. Do you think she has something on her mind, or maybe she just likes the view?"

"I...I don't know," Alistair answered, feeling guilty for the way he had been acting.

"Alistair, just because you cannot see someone's emotions in their expressions, does not mean they do not feel anything. It simply means that they guard their heart more closely than others."

She reached out and squeezed his arm in comfort; smiling sweetly.

"I think she could use a friend to talk to, don't you?" Leliana suggested gently, before leaving Alistair to think on everything she'd said.

* * *

Darcy watched as people milled about like busy ants from her perch on top of the round tower's roof. She had been unable to sleep all night, either waking up from a nightmare, or playing through the events that lead to Isolde's death.

She'd felt the woman's life ebb as her blood flowed from her body. Isolde had been brave right up to the end, not once flinching or crying out in fear, even though Darcy could feel the tremors racking her body and see the tears that silently slid down her cheeks.

Darcy had bent down and whispered in Isolde's ear that she was sorry for what needed to be done and she had prayed that Isolde would find peace at the side of the Maker. Isolde's only response was a stiff nod before closing her eyes in anticipation of the dagger's lethal kiss.

After rolling around in her bed for what seemed like hours, she finally got up and decided to explore the castle. Being as one with the darkness of night, she had little trouble finding her way around; sneaking past the guards on silent feet.

She glanced down at the locket clasped tightly in her hand. Her nighttime snooping had lead her to Arl Eamon's study where she found the locket in a small jewellery box, tucked away in a corner of the bookshelf.

Upon closer inspection, under the dim moonlight that shone through the large window, she discovered that it had been painstakingly repaired. The miniature itself was of a woman with long blonde hair, large brown eyes and a playful smirk gracing her lips. The artist had done a remarkable job of capturing her joyful expression.

Recalling something Alistair had told her one night in camp, she had pocketed the locket with the intent of giving it to him when she saw him next.

She was not yet ready to face anyone this morning and had quickly escaped from the keep to wander around the bailey for a bit. Unfortunately, the villagers and soldiers alike all wanted to speak to her and thank her for saving them and their village from certain death.

In desperation to get away from the well wishers, she had finally taken to the roof of the round tower. She smiled when she remembered the startled gasps from the guards stationed on the curtain wall as she launched herself up the stone wall; her fingers grasping onto the small ledge above the arrow loop, before pulling herself up and reaching for the next ledge all the way to the top.

"Darcy!"

Well, she guessed it was time to face the world again, now that they've found her hiding place. She sighed and leaned over the edge to look down at Alistair, who stood in the centre of the walkway, as far away from either side of the battlements as he could get.

"Hello Alistair," she greeted him with a smile.

"Holy Maker, will you get away from the edge before you fall and kill yourself!" Alistair shouted; looking as if he was about to faint.

Darcy rolled her eyes before getting up and stepping over the edge, at the same time twisting her body around and grasping edge with her hands so that her body was hanging over the walkway. Letting go, she dropped the short distance to the wall; landing on her feet and bending her knees to absorb the impact.

"Andraste's flaming knickers, you will be the death of me," Alistair gasped, feeling like he'd just aged ten years by watching her pull that stunt.

"Oh Alistair, stop being such a drama queen." Darcy grabbed a hold of his arm and started walking towards the stairs that lead down into the bailey.

"Hey, it's drama king, if you please, and I can't help it if I have royal blood." Alistair said with feigned annoyance.

Darcy laughed and shook her head, "Oh no, it's definitely drama queen; of that I am certain."

"Oh really? And how, might I ask, did you come to this conclusion?" Alistair asked enquiringly.

"Well, I hate to say it, but you scream like a girl when you're frightened." Darcy shrugged; trying to hide the grin that threatened to break through her carefully constructed facade.

"I do not scream like a girl," Alistair exclaimed indignantly.

"You certainly screamed like a girl when those suits of armour started attacking us of their own accord," Darcy laughed.

"Suits of armour are not supposed to attack of their own accord," Alistair glowered; feeling himself blush, for he did indeed scream like a girl when he saw the suits of armour advance towards them.

They had finally reached the bottom of the stairs and Alistair breathed a sigh of relief as soon as his feet were on solid ground.

"Hey Darcy," Alistair began, not at all sure how to broach the subject.

"Hmm?"

Darcy looked up at him questioningly; her silver eyes were bright and a sweet smile still played on her lips. It took Alistair's breath away. It was really difficult to comprehend that the sweet girl standing before him now, could kill a man before he even knew what was happening.

"Are you alright? I mean, last night was really terrible and you -" Alistair started rambling, but complied when Darcy put up her hand to stop him.

"Please, it's alright. I will be alright," she took a deep, unsteady breath and tried to calm herself down. "I did what had to be done and now Connor and the villagers are all safe."

A frown furrowed Alistair's brow at her words, "You did what you had to do? You'll be alright? Really Darcy? Come on, I know this must be bothering you; why else would you risk death climbing up that tower just to be alone."

They had reached the castle gardens and were strolling arm in arm along the paths. Darcy closed her eyes and sighed. She was good at listening and giving advice to others, but when it came to opening up to someone herself, she was at a loss.

"If you really must know...I...I wish I hadn't had to make that choice; to take either life. I wish we could have gone to the Circle for the lyrium, but I couldn't risk it. But, I did have to choose, and if I had to do it over, I'd make that choice again. So, when I say I will be alright, I mean that, regardless of how I feel about it, it had to be done and there's no use moping about it for days on end."

A long silence lay between them as they walked among the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent, while Alistair mulled over everything Darcy just said.

"If Morrigan hadn't offered to go into the fade, would you have killed Connor?" Alistair asked softly; steeling himself for the answer that he knew she would give him.

"Yes," Darcy answered simply.

"Why?" Alistair convinced himself that he had to know how Darcy could reasonably kill a child.

"You said so yourself, Alistair, he was possessed and there is no cure for possession. We could not risk going to the circle and, truth be told, allowing Morrigan to go into the fade was a risk in itself."

Alistair nodded his understanding; it was as Leliana had said. "Alright, I guess I'm with you on this one. Let's put it behind us and focus on what happens next... So, what happens next?"

He glanced at Darcy who was gazing at the beautiful red roses that graced Arl Eamon's garden. She frowned and bit her lip as she considered what they needed to do next.

"We need to figure out how to help Arl Eamon and get him well again, so, I think we should speak to Bann Teagan."

She started walking toward the keep before pausing and turning back to face Alistair as she pulled the necklace from her pocket.

"Oh, before I forget, I found this in Arl Eamon's study. I think it belongs to you." She handed him the locket.

Alistair stared at the locket in a state of shock. He thought he had lost it when he flung it at Arl Eamon in a fit of rage the last time Eamon had visited him at the Chantry. He was young and had felt so betrayed by those he thought of as family. Not a night had passed since that he didn't regret throwing away the only reminder he had of his mother.

"This... this is my mother's...my locket... I thought I lost it," he stuttered.

Darcy smiled, "It looks like Arl Eamon kept it safe in the hopes of returning it to you one day."

Alistair couldn't believe that he was holding the locket once more. "You... you remembered me telling you about the locket?"

Darcy nodded; grinning up at Alistair's dazed expression.

"But... but no one ever listens to me when I say things, let alone remember it days later." He was still staring at the locket; afraid that if he blinked, it would disappear.

"I listen to you," Darcy said softly, patting his arm. "Come on, let's go find something to eat; I'm starving!"

Pulling him by the hand and laughing, she led the still overcome Alistair back to the castle keep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi folks, I'm back again. I wasn't going to put this up until Friday, but I couldn't resist. It's a little bit on the short side, but its a necessary precursor for the chapters to follow. It hasn't been beta'd, (like I said, I couldn't resist putting it up early) so any spelling and grammar mistakes are mine.**

**I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

"Absolutely not." Darcy said firmly as she paced up and down the darkened chamber where Arl Eamon lay .

"But my lady, it is surely the only way for Arl Eamon to be revived," Ser Perth said in placating tones.

She whirled around to face him and Ser Perth took an unintentional step back when he glanced into her grey eyes that were dark and threatening, like clouds before a storm.

"Do you expect me to believe that traipsing around the country looking for some rumoured holy dust is the only way to save the Arl?" she asked with a deadly calm that would make lesser men retreat; fast.

An audible gasp came from the corner where Leliana stood next to a bored looking Morrigan, but Darcy ignored it.

Darcy had never been overly religious. After all, how could one have faith in an entity that has turned away from his creations and would not listen to their prayers? The notion that some holy man's left toe, or in this case, the ashes of Andraste herself, could bring the Arl out of his poison induced coma, was simply laughable.

"It is more than a rumour, madam, Brother Genitivi has made great progress in finding the location of holy Andraste's ashes," Ser Perth replied cautiously.

"Ser Perth, you do not seem to appreciate the fact that Ferelden is on the verge of being annihilated by a Blight. We cannot go searching for ashes, that may, or may not cure the Arl, based on hearsay and conjecture."

Sten gave a grunt of approval from where he stood just inside the doorway. His hulking figure made the spacious chamber seem significantly smaller. It was high time that the little warrior paid attention to the Darkspawn threat; he, for one, had had enough of castles, magic and walking dead creatures.

"My lady, if not the ashes, then what do you propose we do?" Bann Teagan interjected, stepping forward, "You said yourself that you have never come across a poison that exhibited symptoms quite like Arl Eamon's."

Darcy resumed her pacing; lips thinning in contemplation. It was true that she did not recognise the symptoms of this particular poison. It certainly was not the result of any of the well known poisons. Although it was the case that some poisons could indeed induce a coma, it was an uncommon symptom and usually preceded the rapid deterioration of the person's health, followed by death.

Darcy did not know of any poison that could sustain a coma for this long. Questioning the blood mage had proven pointless. He had known nothing of the poison itself and simply stated that he was handed the vial with instructions to add it to Arl Eamon's meal at the earliest convenience.

Darcy wondered what Loghain's intentions had been. Why had he chosen this coma induced state, running the risk that Arl Eamon might awaken, over the surety of death? It was possible that the exact dosage that required death had been misjudged. Either that, or Loghain was certain of the fact that Arl Eamon was not going to wake up at all.

She knew who to go to for the information, but could she risk leaving the Arl to his fate while she tracked the man down? Certainly, searching out her contact and finding out the information she needed would be faster than running after a rumour. If it hadn't been for the fact that they needed Arl Eamon's support in their campaign, she would have left his fate in the hands of others.

She became aware of the fact that she had not spoken in some time and that the others were watching her with bated breath as she continued to pace up and down the length of the room. Turning to face her audience, she observed the range of expressions that played, unconcealed across their faces. The anguished, pleading expression on Bann Teagan's face, the apparent indifference on Morrigan's and the bright, smiling mask that usually graced Leliana's features. Darcy knew what the angry, disapproving glare on Sten's face meant and she did not want to contemplate the longing and desire in Alistair's eyes.

"I know someone who will know what this poison is and how to deal with it," she began, "The last I heard, he was in Denerim, so we should start looking there."

"And this... contact of yours will know what kind of poison we are dealing with?" Bann Teagan asked, the doubt clear in his voice.

Darcy nodded, giving him a reassuring smile, "He is an expert when it comes to poisons and their properties. I assure you, if he does not know what we are dealing with right away, he will certainly know how to go about finding out."

"Then you must go to Denerim at once," Bann Teagan said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily.

"No," Darcy said quickly.

Her companions all stared at her in surprise; Bann Teagan was the first to regain his composure.

"No? Why not?"

"We will go to the Circle tower first to ensure that we have the support of the mages and the Templars as is required by the treaty. This way, we can send back a proper healer to see to the care of Arl Eamon while we look for a cure."

Darcy was still angry that a quack healer had been allowed to tend to the Arl. When Darcy and Alistair had arrived in the bed chamber to speak with Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon had been stripped to the waist, covered with the wriggling, writhing forms of leaches. Darcy had demanded that the quack and his leaches leave at once. She shook her head at the memory.

"Healer Browne, has been an upstanding citizen of Redcliffe for many years," Mother Hannah, who had been silent up until now, retorted indignantly, "it is an outrage that he was treated in such an appalling manner!"

Darcy turned to face Mother Hannah, pinning the older woman with the full force of her stormy eyes.

"If it is damaging to one's health to bleed when one is injured, how does it stand to reason that it is good to bleed when one's health is already weakened by poison?"

The older woman opened her mouth to respond, but, finding no answer to the question, closed it again and retreated to the chair that stood in the dark corner by the bed.

"Very well," Teagan said, feeling that it would be advantageous to all if this meeting came to an end, "then it is settled. You will go to the Circle Tower to secure the treaty and a more efficient healer, after which you will go to Denerim to find this, uh... contact of yours."

"Exactly," Darcy agreed smiling.

"Then I will see to it that preparations are made for your journey. You can be expected to leave the day after tomorrow." Bann Teagan said, effectively adjourning their ad hoc meeting.

* * *

It was with a sigh that Darcy finally lay her head down on the soft pillow in the bedchamber that was given to her for the duration of their stay at Redcliffe castle. It had been nice to immerse herself in a tub of steaming, hot water; these past few days had been so hectic and sleep so little and far in between, that it had been almost a relief to just relax for a bit.

A soft knock at the door disturbed the silence, just as Darcy felt herself drifting off to sleep. Scowling at the door, she turned to lie on her other side, facing away from it; hoping that whoever was on the other side would go away.

The knock came again, this time followed by a loud whisper.

"Darcy, are you awake? It's me, Alistair. I want to talk to you."

Apparently, she was not going to get any rest right now. Sighing, she got up and put on her wrapper before unlocking the door so that Alistair could enter.

"Well, do come in," Darcy said impatiently when Alistair didn't move.

Alistair had quite forgotten the use of his faculties when he saw her. Soft, springy curls framed her heart-shaped face; still damp from her bath. There was a soft, rosy blush on her cheeks that emphasised her youthfulness. Her, wrapper, though modest, did nothing to hide the soft, womanly curves of her body.

A loud throat-clearing brought Alistair's attention back to Darcy's face and he could feel his cheeks burn as he blushed.

"You wanted to talk to me," Darcy reminded him; a small smile quirking at the corner of her lips.

"Uh... yes, yes I did," he said; finally regaining the use of his legs and stepping into the room.

Darcy offered Alistair the high-backed chair at the side of the bed with a wave of her hand, while she perched on the edge of the bed.

Producing a blood-red rose from behind his back, he thrust it at her.

"Uh, here," he said awkwardly.

Darcy stared at the rose clutched in Alistair's hand for a long moment, before taking it from him.

"What's this?" She asked, frowning at the rose and then giving Alistair a quizzical look.

"It's my new weapon of choice, actually." Alistair answered drolly, "I can't wait to test it out. I can already see how the enemy will tremble in fear when they see me coming. FEAR MY THORNS, DARKSPAWN!" He made a swipe with his sword arm at the imaginary enemy.

Darcy couldn't help the small smile that plucked at the corner of her mouth as she watched Alistair's antics.

"Alistair -" Darcy began.

"No, no, it's nothing more than a gesture of gratitude and friendship... if that is all you want from me. It doesn't have to mean anything else. I saw you looking at the roses earlier today and I thought it would be nice if someone... If I gave you one as a gift. You give so much of yourself and yet you don't ask for anything in return. So... thank you... for being there for me." He ran his hands through his already tousled hair and smiled nervously at her.

Darcy didn't say anything for a long time. She knew Alistair wanted more than mere friendship; she could see the desire in his eyes when he looked at her, but Darcy didn't know if she could reciprocate his feelings.

Alistair was good and loving and caring and she wasn't. She had made her first assassination at the young age of fourteen. Would he still be so enamoured with her if he knew? It wouldn't be the first time someone had run away from her after learning who she really was.

"Alistair... I can't give you what you want," she said softly, not daring to look at him for fear of seeing hope shatter in his eyes.

Alistair had prepared himself for the rebuff, but the rejection still hurt. He had hoped that maybe she felt something for him too. Putting his fingertips under her chin, he raised her head so that she was looking at him.

"Like I said, if friendship is all you want from me, then it is all you will have."

He let go of her chin and gave her a tentative smile.

"You know," he said as he got up from the chair and walked to the door, "you are a lot like this rose."

Darcy frowned, "Is this your subtle way of telling me that I can be a bit prickly?"

"Ha!" He laughed, "and they said I didn't know the meaning of subtlety. That is, however, not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant that you are just as beautiful. Goodnight, Darcy," he said softly before heading down the hall to his own bedchamber.

Darcy stared at the rose in her hand for a long while before finally falling asleep; still clutching the rose to her heart.

* * *

**I do so love any reviews I receive - they make me very happy. Oh, and thank you to all who have put this story on your favourite/follow list.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi all, here is the next instalment. This chapter has been very kindly edited by EchoesOfSilence, for which I am very grateful. Thank you to all who have reviewed and have put this story on their favourite/follow lists. I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to leave a review.**

**Here goes, I hope you enjoy it...**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

The soft rays of sunlight caressing her cheek, was what woke Darcy in the morning. She smiled and sat up in bed giving a long, languid stretch before scratching behind Teebone's ears where he lay on the floor at the side of the bed.

Slipping into her leather armour was as easy as breathing and she was soon dressed and ready for the day ahead. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her curls and braided it with quick, nimble fingers. She never did see much sense in having a ladies maid, but she wondered where the servant had got to this morning.

There was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air. Darcy didn't know why, but she felt light and unrestrained as if no longer fettered by duty and responsibility; she felt happy.

The view that greeted her as she stepped out into the bailey was not the looming red cliffs that surrounded the village, however. Darcy frowned and took in her surroundings. The curtain walls seemed higher, the castle keep larger and there was a moist saltiness in the air that reminded her of... home.

Confused, she ran up the stairs to the ramparts, with Teebone hot on her heels, and came to an abrupt halt as she took in the vista that lay, outstretched before her. The sheer cliff wall dropped down below her and disappeared into the crashing waves of the Waking Sea. Clear blue skies stretched like a large canopy over the expanse of the sea's rolling waves and in the distance was the feint outline of what Darcy knew was the Free Marches.

She was home. If she needed any further proof, banners, displaying the Cousland heraldry of a laurel wreath in the shape of two wings, flapped lazily in the early morning breeze.

"G' morning m'lady," a soldier greeted her cheerfully as he passed her on his morning route.

She nodded her head and smiled a greeting at the cheerful man before running down into the bailey again. She wandered around taking in all the familiar scenes and sounds playing out around her. She finally paused when she observed a single dark red rose in bloom in the rose garden.

She felt a strange tugging at the back of her mind, almost as if the rose was reminding her of something, but she couldn't think what it could be.

"So, this is where you have been hiding," a rich male voice spoke suddenly behind her.

Darcy spun around to see a tall man with broad shoulders and trim hips smiling down at her. His chiselled features bore the creamy complexion that was common amongst redheads. The morning sun picked out the coppery strands in his hair, making it gleam and his leaf-green eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Ser Gilmore?" Darcy's voice rose barely above a whisper in her surprise at seeing him.

He laughed, stepping forward to caress her cheek with a large, calloused hand.

"That is a very formal address, my love. I'm more used to you calling me Rory."

The deep timbre of his voice sent tiny shivers down her spine. Oh, how she had missed him; to see his handsome face, to feel his loving touch and his warm embrace.

There was something, though, that made her hesitate in her responses to him. Why did it feel like this was all a dream? How could she be here? How could _he _be here? Wasn't there something she was meant to be doing; something important? Darcy searched his eyes, hoping to find the answers to her questions in their warm depths.

"Is something the matter, darling?" He asked, using his thumb to gently smooth the crease between her knitted brow.

"I...No, nothing is wrong," Darcy answered quickly, "You just startled me, I guess."

"Darcy Cousland? Startled? It's simply unthinkable, my dear," he said, grinning playfully.

"Then I guess this is one for the record books," Darcy countered, returning his grin.

Roderick laughed pulling her into his embrace and Darcy followed into it willingly; yearning for his touch . She lay her head on his broad chest and breathed in his warm scent of soap, leather and salty, sea air.

"I came to find you and give you the good news," he murmured into her hair.

Darcy tilted her head back so that she could look into his eyes.

"What news?" She asked, wondering what this was all about.

He held her away from him slightly, with his hands resting on her waist and looked down at her with a beaming smile.

"Your father has given us his blessing to be married."

Darcy felt her heart skip with joy and she threw herself back into his arms with fervour.

"He has? Oh Rory, I'm so happy!" she exclaimed.

Rory laughed with her, drawing her closer and lowering his head until his lips was almost touching hers.

"I knew that would cheer you up," he whispered against her mouth before covering it with his own in a gentle, but passionate kiss.

At first, Darcy gave herself over to the delicious sensations of their kiss, but her mind soon became flooded with memories that did not seem to fit with the present. She stiffened.

Feeling the change in her body's reaction, Rory ended the kiss and looked down at her; frowning.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

"Yes, of course, it's just..." Darcy hesitated, unsure of how to voice her concerns.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything and everything."

His voice was soft persuasion and Darcy felt as if she could tell him of all her doubts and fears.

"Well, it's just that I was wondering why my father gave his permission so quickly. Do not misunderstand me, I am truly delighted that he has agreed, but I thought it would take much more to convince him. You must admit, it is not the usual way of things; you know I should be married off to another noble house."

Rory gave a low chuckle, "You worry too much, my dear. The answer is quite simple; you have a loving, doting father, who wants only to make his little girl happy and if marrying me makes you happy, then that is how it will be."

It was true. Her father was well known for his somewhat unconventional ways and didn't always conform to the demands of society. There were other memories, however, that gave her greater concern over this sudden marriage proposal.

"There is one more thing I don't understand," Darcy began tentatively.

"Tell me, my love," he encouraged her with a loving smile.

"When I told you about my past, of what I have done, of what I am, you became upset and angry. You told me that you could not be with someone who took another's life for payment. You said it was dishonourable and that I would bring shame to my father's name. You said you could not marry a murderer. What has changed, Rory? I am still a murderer." The last words sounded choked under the force of her emotions, but she needed to know his reasons.

Something flashed behind his green eyes, but it was too quick for Darcy to tell what it was. His expression grew serious and his voice was almost pleading as he held her close to him.

"Forgive me, my love, I was foolish and arrogant. I was wrong to say those hurtful things to you, I thought I was strong enough to live my life without you, but I can't. Every day I spend away from you is pure agony. I love you too much to let something as trifle as that stand in the way of our happiness."

It was the answer she had dreamed of many nights after admitting her secrets to Rory. To hear him confess these words to her should have made her happy. Instead, the nagging sense that all was not as it should be grew stronger and stronger.

"I forgive you, Rory. I understand that it came as a great shock to you; your reaction was to be expected. I am only happy that you are able to look past my flaws, and that you are willing to love me, regardless." Darcy had to force her lips into a strained smile.

"I will never make the mistake of letting you go again; of that you can be certain, my dear."

Darcy did not miss the flash in his eyes this time. His words, though meant as a confession of his love, held a subtle threat and it convinced Darcy that something was very wrong. In her peripheral view, the dark red rose seemed to call out to her like a beacon.

"Are you certain that you are alright? You seem rather pale and not at all yourself this morning," Rory asked, looking down at her with an expression of worry on his face.

Darcy knew this was her opportunity to get away from Rory; she needed to figure out what was going on here.

She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and smiled apologetically, "Forgive me, Rory, it seems that I am feeling a little under the weather today. I think that I will go lie down until the feeling has passed. Will you excuse me?"

Rory gave her a searching look, but nodded and pecked her on the cheek, "Of course, my dear. You must rest; it would not do at all for you take ill. You have a wedding to prepare after all. I will see you at dinner time"

Darcy nodded and turned away from him, heading back towards the keep. She forced herself to walk in a sedately manner until she was no longer within his sight. Then, she ran quickly back to her room and locked the door with trembling fingers.

* * *

Once within the relative safety of her room, she started to pace. She didn't understand why she was having so many misgivings. She has known Rory since he came to live at Highever Castle as a ward to her father.

They had been fast friends from the beginning and the only time they had ever spent apart, was the three years she spent in Antiva. After she returned home, their friendship had blossomed into something more. They knew that their love would be frowned upon. It was, after all, unacceptable in society's eyes for her to marry so far below her station. But nothing could stop the way they felt about each other and their days were filled with whispers of love and stolen kisses.

The night she gave herself to Rory completely, was also the night she confessed the real reason for her being in Antiva. Rory had been furious at her and had told her that he could never be with a murderer. He had stormed away; leaving her to pick up the pieces of her broken heart amongst the hay in the hayloft where he had just, minutes before declared his love for her.

She didn't cry. Part of her had known that he would react the way he did, but she didn't want to keep secrets from him. With Roderick, it had always been a matter of black or white and there had never been any space for grey areas in between. His sense of duty and honour had prevented him from overlooking the fact that she was an assassin.

It had been a hard lesson to learn, but she had been warned time and time again by her _Mentor_, that she should not let her emotions get in the way.

For six months Rory had avoided her; refusing to speak to her unless necessity dictated it, until one day he had come looking for her. Teebone had been in the larder again. The two of them had rushed to Nan's aid and, upon discovering the giant rats in the larder, had set about killing them. It was the first time since that night in the hayloft that they had spent any time together. Rory had laughed and joked with her the entire time and it felt good to regain some resemblance of their friendship. That night she had gone to bed with her heart a little bit lighter and her smile a little bit brighter.

Darcy stopped her pacing and frowned. Something had happened that night. Why couldn't she remember what it was? It was as if a thick fog clouded the memories of that night.

Suddenly, a loud crash startled Darcy out of her deep reflection. Grabbing her swords, she ran to the door and unlocked it. She peered cautiously around the corner and ducked back into the room just in time, before a large ice spell came whizzing past her head.

"Die foul demon!" A menacing female voice sounded from where the ice spell had originated.

A loud, anguished cry filled the air. Darcy peered around the corner once more and saw a frightening sight. The creature was so misshapen, it looked as if its features were melting from its bones and its entire body was covered with red hot flames.

It roared and writhed, screeched and squirmed as it made its way up the corridor. It was so intent on its attacker, that it did not even notice Darcy. Another ice spell hit the creature, but it only served to slow it down a fraction.

Turning her head to peer the other way, Darcy saw a tall, slender woman in mage robes preparing to cast another spell. She had long, straight tawny coloured hair that was pulled back from her face in a ponytail. Her eyes were a deep, cerulean blue and her fair eyebrows were furrowed together in fierce determination and concentration.

The creature had almost reached the woman and it swiped its arms at her with a furious snarl. Darcy didn't think the woman was going to be able to finish her spell.

Her blades rasped softly as she pulled them from their sheaths before running at the creature from behind. It didn't see her coming. With a mighty swing of her blades, the creature uttered a final agonizing cry before dropping, headless to the floor. Its twisted, misshapen head rolled across the floor and landed by the slippered feet of the mage.

The mage blinked in bewilderment, looking from the severed head to the still twitchy body and finally up at Darcy.

"Maker's holy socks! Where did you come from?" the woman blurted out in her surprise.

Darcy held her amusement in check and pointed to the bedchamber from which she had come.

"From in there."

The mage glanced in the direction in which Darcy had pointed and then brought her attention back to Darcy.

"Oh. I see."

Something in the mage's eyes made Darcy wary, but before she could give it much more thought, a powerful wave of energy hit her square in the chest. It was so strong, that it lifted her off her feet and slammed her against the wall at the opposite end of the corridor.

Darcy found herself in a crumpled heap on the floor gasping for air. She groaned and rolled over; sitting up on her knees and clutching her ribs. She was sure she had heard something crack.

"Oh. Oh deary me. I think I may have put too much force into that spell. Everyone always tell me that I don't know my own strength. Are you quite alright?" The mage looked down at Darcy with a worried expression.

Still trying to catch her breath and unable to speak, Darcy glared balefully at the mage in the hopes that it would convey just what her thoughts were to _that_ particular query.

The mage gave a nervous little laugh and took a step away from Darcy.

"Yes, well...Quite. Might I suggest that you hear what I have to say before you kill me? I am sorry for hurting you, but I had to make sure that you were not a demon."

"A demon?" Darcy managed to rasp.

"Yes," the mage nodded sagely, "a demon. They are crafty creatures and you never know when they might try and trick you."

"Why would you think I was a demon?" Darcy panted.

"Oh dear," the mage said looking worried again, "you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" Darcy groaned, finally managing to stand up, but still holding onto the wall.

"This is the fade," the mage said; picking up Darcy's fallen swords and handing them back to her.

"The fade?" Darcy asked.

"Yes. Y-you know, the place where our minds go when we dream."

"I know what the fade is," Darcy said, impatiently, "What I want to know is how I got here."

The mage looked at her in surprise, "Oh, so you believe me?"

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" Darcy asked, fixing the mage with an angry stare.

The woman nervously took another step away from Darcy.

"No, but it usually takes longer to convince someone that they are in the fade, because they believe what they are seeing is the truth."

Darcy nodded, "I can understand why. So, can you please explain to me how I ended up here?"

"Hmm, well, you see," the mage said, tapping her index finger against her chin as she contemplated the situation, "I think you may actually be in Kinloch Hold, the Circle Tower."

A memory tugged at a corner of Darcy's mind. _The Circle Tower_. Why was that significant? What was she doing at the Circle Tower? Darcy shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the fog that seemed to cloud her recent memories.

"I can't remember," Darcy exclaimed, frustrated.

"From what I can remember," the mage said, "the tower was taken over by blood mages. They are led by one of the senior mages, Uldred, and they took several of us, including First Enchanter Irving, hostage in the Harrowing chamber."

"Harrowing chamber?" Darcy asked.

"It is the chamber where all mage apprentices go to be tested before they can become a full member of the Circle. An apprentice is sent to the fade where they must resist being possessed by a demon. I only just recently went through the Harrowing myself." The mage shuddered at the memory.

"What happens if the mage fails and becomes possessed?" Darcy asked, intrigued.

"The Templars kill them." The woman answered matter-of-factly.

"I see," Darcy said, restraining a shudder of her own.

"I think that the veil has torn due to all the death and excess use of magic, which has allowed fade creatures to pass into the physical realm. I suspect you are being trapped by a demon of sloth; it is feeding off your life essence as we speak."

"So how do we get out of here?" Darcy enquired.

"Since this is your dream, you have to defeat the demon that is holding you here. Once you have done that, we can return to the raw fade and then we can help the others."

"Others?"

"Yes, there are three others trapped, like you, in their own dreams. We must help them find their way back to the raw fade if we stand a chance to get you out of here. There's a handsome fellow, tall and well built, with blonde hair -"

"Alistair," Darcy whispered as memories flooded her mind and comprehension finally dawned.

"Oh good, you are starting to remember," the mage said, smiling brightly.

"We came to the Tower for help. We needed a Healer to return to Redcliffe to help Arl Eamon."

Darcy started pacing again as, one by one, her memories started to fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. The mage nodded encouragingly.

"There was something else... The treaty! We came here to invoke the treaty held between the Grey Wardens and the Circle, but, when we got here we learned that the Circle was under attack."

"Yes, that is exactly it!" the mage exclaimed.

"How do we kill this demon?" Darcy asked, relief flooding her at finally being able to remember.

"Oh that is the easy part," the mage answered, "the difficult part will be to identify it."

"I don't think we should worry about that," Darcy said with a feral grin, "I already know who it is."

Darcy turned to the mage and held out her hand.

"If we are going to fight alongside each other, I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Darcy Cousland."

The mage grinned and shook Darcy's offered hand.

"I'm Solana. Solana Amell."


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi folks, I must first apologise for my long absence. Unfortunately real life got a little crazy for a bit, but things have calmed down now. I can't promise to update as regularly as I have in the past, because I've got exams in July and October. I will try and update as much as I can during this time. Also, I had a mild case of writer's block. This chapter just didn't want to be written so I hope you like it.**

**My thanks goes to the fabulous EchoesOfSilence, who beta'd this chapter for me. My thanks as well to all of you who have farvourited and followed this story.**

**With this chapter, we conclude the fade and the Circle and we finally make our way to Denerim in the next.**

**So here goes...**

* * *

Darcy was angry. She was angry at the demon for fooling her so easily and she was angry with herself for allowing the demon to fool her. Mostly, she was angry that all those treacherous emotions she held so securely in a hidden corner of her heart had broken free of her control the moment she had laid eyes on Rory. Confound her traitorous heart!

Anger was good. Anger would give her the strength she needed to kill this demon. Rory was dead. Her Father was dead. Her Mother was dead. They were all dead. She repeated the words over and over like a chant as she prepared herself for facing the demon.

A knock on the door to her bedroom announced that it was time for her to face her demons - in more ways than one. Squaring her shoulders, she walked to the door and opened it slowly. Sparkling green eyes and a familiar, lopsided smile greeted her. _This is not Rory! _She reminded herself.

"Are you ready for dinner, my love? I have come to escort you to the Great Hall," Rory said, offering her his hand.

It took a moment for Darcy to regain her senses. Why was it so difficult to remember what was real?

"Focus," the mage hissed behind her.

They had decided that Solana would not reveal herself until the last minute. Darcy had watched as the mage had chanted some elaborate concealment spell whilst waving her arms about her like a windmill and her large eyes squinting in concentration. It was strange, because Darcy could still see Solana, but the demon, apparently, could not.

"I'm trying," Darcy hissed back.

Darcy was beginning to find that the bookish mage could be very bossy.

"What was that, darling?" Rory asked.

"Oh, I said I'm ready," Darcy replied, smiling sweetly at him.

"Good, let us be off then," he said; placing her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her down the corridor.

The great hall was almost an exact replica of the real thing, but Darcy noticed the subtle differences in her surroundings. The portraits of her parents were at opposite ends of the hall of where it usually hung. The rich tapestries, shields and banners that decorated the whitewashed walls were also out of place. At the end of the great hall, the high table and trestle tables were already set up for the evening meal.

The thing that made Darcy's skin crawl the most, was the fact that the castle was so quiet. There was none of the hustle and bustle of normal, everyday life within the keep. There were no servants standing ready to serve the meal, no minstrels in the gallery to entertain with their merry tunes. It was all too quiet and Darcy stifled a shiver that ran down her spine.

Rory led her over to the high table and pulled out a high-backed chair for her at the far end of the table. Darcy thanked him and took her seat whilst he took the seat opposite her.

"Will the rest of my family be joining us for dinner?"

"Your Father and brother have had to leave for Denerim on business and your Mother has gone to visit Lady Landra."

"Of course," Darcy smiled, "Is it just me or does the hall seem a little too quiet to you? Where have all the servants gone; is there some holiday I have forgotten about?"

Darcy watched from the corner of her eye as Solana slowly moved around the table to stand behind Rory.

"Not at all, my love, I simply wished to spend some time alone with you."

"What are you waiting for, kill it already!" Solana whispered, pointing at Rory's head and making slashing motions across her throat to get her point across.

Darcy shook her head as unobtrusively as possible.

"That was thoughtful of you, we so rarely get to spend time alone." She said, trying her best to ignore the mage's frantic gestures.

Solana glared angrily at Darcy and stomped her foot like a child.

"What are you playing at Cousland!" Solana hissed.

"Are you hungry, my dear? I will signal for the servants to come through." Rory said, smiling and completely oblivious of the mage standing behind him.

"I am quite famished, actually, but before you signal for the servants, there is something I must know first," Darcy said; fingering the throwing knife that she had strapped to her thigh.

"Of course my dear, anything," Rory said smiling.

A slow smile spread across Darcy's lips and she tightened her grip on the throwing knife.

"If this is the fade, where do demons go when they die?"

In one swift flick of her wrist, Darcy's throwing knife lodged itself right in the centre of Rory's forehead. The force of the blow knocked him backwards and he went down with an ear splitting shriek.

"What was that about?" Solana demanded, "Why did you take so long to kill it?"

"I was waiting for the right moment," Darcy shrugged.

"The right moment? There were plenty of right moments back there."

An angry roar cut short Darcy's retort, as the demon, now in its true form, came barrelling towards them. Darcy had her swords in her hands almost instantaneously, but before she could attack, a powerful ice blast whirled past her. It hit the demon square in the chest; rendering it motionless and frozen solid. With a powerful swing of her right sword, Darcy struck the frozen demon and watched as it smashed into thousands of tiny shards.

"I guess I'll never know the answer to that question," Darcy remarked drily. "Come on, let's go get the others.

With the death of the demon, the illusion of the castle melted away, leaving just the raw fade before them.

* * *

It wasn't difficult to find the others. Convincing them that they were in the fade proved tricky, but in the end their demons were slain too.

"So, this is the fade," Alistair said, looking around him at his surroundings, "Can't say I like it much; it's not very welcoming."

"Don't you ever tire of having yourself around?" Morrigan retorted haughtily.

"Not really, no. I certainly prefer my own company to yours." Alistair snapped.

"Enough," Darcy interrupted their bickering before it could get out of hand, "Now is not the time for your squabbling."

"Do they always do this?" Solana asked, watching Alistair and Morrigan with interest.

"All the time," Darcy said rolling her eyes. "Well, Solana, where do we go from here? How do we get out of this fade?"

"There is one more demon to defeat before you free yourselves. It is the sloth demon that brought you here in the first place. First, I will take you to a friend of mine that is trapped here like me. His name is Niall and he will tell you what you must do to defeat Uldred when you get out of here."

Solana started walking along what looked like a well trodden path. Darcy wondered how anyone can find their way in this place; everything just looked the same. After a short while they came to an area that was littered with rubble and large boulders. Hidden in a corner sat a man with dark hair and eyes. He had a melancholy air about him and he looked as if he was going to burst into tears at any moment.

"Is he alright?" Leliana asked; looking at the man with a worried expression.

"Oh Niall is fine," Solana said with a laugh, "Just excuse him, he is prone to being a bit gloomy."

The man, Niall, had seen them approach and stood up to greet them.

"Who are these people, Solana? More people trapped in the fade?"

Darcy noted that Niall was quite tall, but his shoulders drooped as if he carried the weight of the world. His dark hair hung limply around his face and even his voice sounded gloomy.

"They are Grey Wardens, come to the tower to seek aid against the blight. They became trapped by the sloth demon, just like us." Solana informed him.

"It would have been a kindness if you have left them to their dreams. Now they are doomed to wander these grey spaces, just like us." Niall shook his head sadly.

"We met a man, Owain, before we were trapped by the demon. He mentioned you by name and something about a litany." Darcy said; trying to keep the conversation on what they needed to know.

"Yes, Owain was a great help to us. The Litany of Adralla was our only weapon against the blood mages' domination. It was all for nothing, I suppose; everyone is dead." Niall sighed heavily and looked at his feet.

"There must be a way out of this,"

Darcy was not deterred by this man's depressed state. She wasn't just going to sit here and slowly waste away if there was something that could still be done. They had to at least try.

"No," Niall shook his head slowly, "there is none, it is useless to even try."

"Well, isn't he just a barrelful of laughs," Alistair scoffed.

"Quiet, Alistair, the grownups are talking." Morrigan retorted.

"What about the sloth demon?" Darcy interjected quickly, before they could start their bickering again, "Solana said there is a chance to defeat it. What do you know of this sloth demon?"

"Not much," Niall shrugged, "It's not like we are best friends, you know. Demons have their own hierarchies. They play their own games, in which mortals serve as their pawns or even bargaining chips. This sloth demon is probably ruler of this part of the fade and he will not let go of you easily."

"There has to be a way," Darcy said starting to pace as she always did when faced with a particular problem.

"I don't know whether to admire or pity you for your optimism," Niall said, shaking his head sadly, "I never thought I would die like this. All alone in this dark forsaken place,"

"Oh, but you are not alone," Leliana said.

She tried to pat his arm, but he shrugged her off.

"Coming from you, a stranger, that means... nothing."

"Stop being a ninny, Niall, and tell these people what they need to know about the litany," Solana scolded; growing tired of his negativity.

Niall flinched at the reprimand and did as he was told.

"Of course." He sighed again, "If by some miracle you defeat this demon and wake up, you must search my body and find the litany. You must each repeat the words before you face Uldred, or you will become his thrall, just like all the others."

"Your body? Surely you will be freed as well once the demon is dead." Darcy said.

"I'm afraid not," Solana said sadly, "You still have a chance, since you haven't been under its influence for that long. It is too late for Niall and myself, though, our bodies have been without sustenance for too long."

"Oh, but this is awful," Leliana cried, "you will be stuck here!"

"Don't worry about us," Solana said smiling a little too brightly, "we will be just fine. Now come on, we need to hurry if you are to have a chance at defeating Uldred. Come on, Niall, you are coming too."

"But -"

"I said come on!" Solana ordered.

Niall slumped his shoulders dejectedly, but hurried after the others all the same.

* * *

They walked for what felt like an age before Solana finally called a halt. Before them lay a vast area with warped and twisted tree structures. Old ruins lay crumbling on the ground and rock formations rose up from the ground, sharp and jagged, like teeth.

"This is it," Solana said; turning to the others, "This is the sloth demon's lair. We must keep our wits about us; sloth demons are masters of disguise."

"Nothing is ever easy," Alistair sighed, "Well, let's get to killing this thing so that we can get out of here."

"I'm with you on that one," Darcy agreed.

She quietly slipped her swords from their sheaths and started walking down a crooked little path that led deeper into the demon's lair. They hadn't got very far before Darcy became aware of a presence. She turned to Solana to tell her, but the mage already had her staff out; so did Niall and Morrigan.

The path suddenly ended and the group found themselves in a small clearing. At the far end stood a tall figure. As they got closer, Darcy could see its grotesque features. Its pink flesh was twisted and contorted and it had long, claw-like hands. Its face was a mass of scars and two, small beady eyes could just barely be distinguished from the rest. It glided towards them slowly, lazily, as if he didn't care that there were intruders in his lair.

"Ah, I see I have visitors. Forgive me, but I think we will skip the proper introductions, too much effort, you know." It spoke sluggishly as if every word took immense effort to utter.

"Release us from the fade and you will be spared," Darcy commanded. She was growing tired of these games.

"I see what the problem is, you are not satisfied with your dreams. If you go back quietly, I promise I will give you better dreams. Perhaps your companion would prefer a dream in which you are featured," it pointed at Darcy with a talon-like finger, "He seems very...fond of you. I don't know much of desire, but I'm sure we can work something out."

Alistair wasn't sure if blushing was possible in the fade, but he felt his cheeks grow hot all the same.

"That will not be necessary," Darcy said, "All we want is to be released. Think carefully on how you answer, demon, for it will determine your future."

"Selfish creatures!" The demon roared, "I made you happy and safe; gave you peace. I did my best for you and this is how you repay me?"

A ball of fire flew past Darcy and grazed the demon's side. For a moment everyone stared at Niall who had cast the spell.

"My aim was never very good," he shrugged, forming another fireball in his hands as he spoke.

"Rebellious minions, you have some gall! Playtime is over." The demon roared.

Its form began to shake and elongate before it took on the form of a very large ogre.

It was a long and arduous battle. Just as they thought they were gaining some ground, the demon would change its shape into some other grotesque creature and the process of wearing it down would begin again.

The spells cast by the mages began to dwindle as their mana was drained and Darcy's arms were starting to shake with effort. Alistair's movements had become slow. Only Leliana's arrows were still hitting their mark at a steady pace.

It was Leliana's arrow that, at last, felled the demon. It gave on final agonized roar before it fell to the ground. Had they any energy left, Darcy was sure there would have been cheers. At the moment it was an effort to just keep upright.

"We did it. I didn't think we would actually be able to do it, but we did it!" Niall said; smiling for the first time.

"You will wake up soon," Solana said, smiling sadly, "It's time for us all to be on our way."

"Is there someone you would like to give a message to? I would gladly see to it that they get it; it's the least we can do for all your help."

"A message to my mother," Niall said, "Tell her I was never destined to be a hero, but I hope she can be proud of me for trying."

"I know she will be," Darcy nodded and turned to face Solana, "What of you?"

Solana was quiet for a moment before speaking.

"There is a Templar in the tower by the name of Cullen. I do not know if he still lives, but if he does, tell him... Tell him I love him. Tell him I always have and I always will."

There was no more time for words as the air around the companions started to shimmer and the grey landscape faded away.

* * *

The first thing Darcy noticed upon waking was the awful stench of decomposing flesh. The second was that her nose was very close to the stench. She groaned and sat up; her whole body ached and she was dizzy with exhaustion. Where would they get the strength to fight Uldred?

"Unhh, what is that awful smell?" Alistair groaned beside her.

"If I never see the inside of a tower again, it will be too soon," Morrigan said; already standing and trying desperately to brush away the dirt and grime off her clothes.

"Oh Maker, let's never do that again!" Leliana cried.

Darcy got up stiffly and walked over to where a pair of emaciated corpses lay in a corner. Dry, brittle blonde hair was the only feature that identified the corpse as that of Solana's. Darcy turned her attention to the second corpse, which she deduced was the body of Niall. Gently, she searched the pockets of the decomposing robe until she found the scroll on which the litany was written.

Sadness filled her heart for the two they had left behind in the fade. She hoped they would eventually find their rest, wherever that may be. She would make sure that their bodies were given a proper funeral and that they were remembered for their deeds. Rejoining the others, they began making their way up the tower once more and towards the Harrowing Chamber.

The quarters between the companions and the Harrowing Chamber were filled with nightmarish creatures. Enthralled Templars, blood mages and a myriad of minor demons alike, attacked the weary group as they forged a path to the top of the tower. They were rounding yet another corner after just defeating a desire demon, when they were stopped short by an almost invisible energy field that stretched across the doorway.

"Well, it seems as if someone doesn't want us to go this way," Darcy said; picking up a piece of splintered wood and lobbing it at the energy field.

The force with which it was repelled, caused the group to move hurriedly out of the way of the flying projectile. It landed with a loud clatter on the floor at the other side of the corridor.

"That is a definite 'no,'" Alistair agreed.

"Morrigan, is there something you can do about this field?" Darcy asked.

The mage's pale yellow eyes shimmered eerily in the light cast by the energy field as she inspected it.

"'Tis no ordinary shield. 'Tis a powerful mage that cast this. I do not know for how long this has been here, but it is the mage that is sustaining it." She cast an experimental lightning bolt at the field, but, just like the piece of wood, it was repelled.

"You will not enter here foul demon!" An older looking mage appeared behind the energy field, her staff raised and ready to cast a spell.

Darcy recognised the mage immediately as the healer she had met during the king's war council at Ostagar.

"Wynne? I'm Darcy, we met at Ostagar. I was the new Grey Warden recruit. Do you not remember me?"

The mage hesitated, but did not let down her guard, "I remember, but that does not mean that you are really Darcy. I will not fall for your tricks demon!" The top of Wynne's staff started to glow with a bright blue light.

"Wynne, will you listen to me first? If, after I tell you everything, you still do not believe me, I give you leave to strike me." Darcy said; hoping with all her might that Wynne would believe her.

The mage nodded, "Speak," The glow at the end of her staff did not diminish even a little bit.

"If you are here, Wynne, then you must know what happened at Ostagar. Alistair and I are the only two surviving Grey Wardens, after being rescued by Morrigan and her mother. Since then, we have been trying to gain an alliance between the different people groups in Ferelden. We came to the Circle to honour the treaty between the Grey Wardens and the mages, but when we arrived, Gregoir, the Knight Commander, informed us what has happened here. He has sent off for the Right of Annulment, but we managed to convince him to let us enter to see if there was anyone here that we could still save."

"I still don't believe you," The tip of Wynne's staff grew brighter, "You could have gleaned that information from my mind."

"True," Darcy nodded, "but there is something that you wouldn't know. We entered the tower, but not long after, we were trapped in the fade by a sloth demon. We met two of your fellow mages there, Solana and Niall."

Darcy noticed that this bit of information had sharpened the interest in the older woman's eyes.

"They told us that they were planning to try and stop Uldred using of the Litany of Adralla. That is where they were heading before becoming trapped by the sloth demon, just like us. With their help, we managed to defeat the demon and we woke up back in the circle again. Niall had told me to find the Litany on his body and instructed us in its use."

Darcy carefully moved her hand to her pocket and took out the scroll. She gently unrolled it and held it as close to the energy field as possible without touching it. Wynne strode forward and inspected the scroll.

"It is as you say," the older mage straightened and the tip of her staff returned to normal. "You said you found the litany on Niall's body?"

Darcy nodded sadly, "Yes. I'm sorry, but they said that they had been trapped in the fade too long."

Wynne nodded and, with a wave of her staff, the barrier dropped away. Wynne staggered backwards in relief; glad that she no longer needed to keep the barrier in place.

"How long have you been keeping that barrier in place?" Darcy asked as she placed a steadying hand on the older woman's shoulder.

"I'm not sure, I lost track of the days. I was on my way to First Enchanter Irving's office, when Uldred struck. It was terrible, so many abominations... I fought off as many as I could and then I hid until everything quieted down. I started to make my way back towards the mage quarters, but a large group of abominations and demons kept me from moving forwards. They used Templars to try and drain my mana. That is when I erected this field and I have been trapped here since. They kept coming back, trying to get past the barrier." Wynne closed her eyes and shuddered at the memories.

"You did well. Morrigan said it takes a powerful mage to keep such a barrier in place. I think she was impressed, which is quite something. Morrigan isn't easily impressed," Darcy said with a laugh.

"Do not fool yourself into thinking you know me," Morrigan said haughtily, "'Twas merely a fact that was stated, nothing more."

"As you say, Morrigan," Darcy replied; eyes twinkling. "We need to get into the Harrowing Chamber, Wynne, that is where Uldred is." She said, turning her attention back to Wynne.

"It is not far," Wynne said, "Just through the door at the end of the corridor next to the First Enchanter's office and then up the stairs."

Darcy nodded, "I am concerned for our well-being, we are weak after our time in the fade and do not have any restorative potions. Do you know if there are any stored in this area of the tower?"

"Irving always kept a store of lyrium potions in his office. It may not be of any use to you, but it will be to me and Morrigan. Once my mana is restored, I can use a rejuvenation spell on the rest of you. Now, we must hurry." Wynne said and led the way down the corridor to Irving's office.

Darcy sighed audibly as the cool restorative sensations of Wynne's rejuvenation spell washed over her. Next to her, she could see the relieved expressions on her companions' faces. This had been too close a call. If it hadn't been for Wynne, Darcy was under no illusion that they would not have made it out of that Harrowing Chamber. Now, at least, they had a chance, albeit a small one.

Taking the litany out of her pocket, she unrolled the scroll and started to memorize the words written there. They would need to memorize and say the words to stay clear of Uldred's blood magic. Once she was satisfied that everyone could say the words without making a single mistake, they exited Irving's office and walked across the corridor to the door leading to the Harrowing Chamber. Darcy noticed Morrigan as she slipped a black leather tome into her travelling pack. She frowned and wondered what it could be. Now, however was not the time to confront the mage. It would have to wait until later.

* * *

The sight that greeted them as they entered the next room made their steps falter. There, at the foot of the stairs and trapped within a strange, glittering cage, sat a young Templar. His curly, red-blonde hair was matted with dried blood and his templar armour was dented in places. The bodies of several other Templars littered the floor around the cage.

"Oh Maker, it is Cullen, one of the Templar Recruits," Wynne said; her voice sounding choked.

"Cullen? Solana mentioned him just before we left the fade," Leliana said; her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes large at the horror she was witnessing.

"They were...friends," Wynne nodded.

Darcy didn't miss the hidden truth behind the words. They were more than friends; Solana's message to Cullen was proof of that. Darcy slowly walked over to the cage and bent down so that she was at eye level with the young Templar.

"Cullen?" She said softly. His eyes flew open and pale green eyes stared at her in horror.

"No, no, Maker, please no more. I can't take any more of this."

His breathing was rapid and he curled into himself, covering his head with his arms and rocked slowly back and forth. He muttered senseless words under his breath, but she couldn't hear what he was saying. Darcy recognised the signs of a man pushed too far, a man that has witnessed too much horror - a tortured man. She knew there was nothing they could do for him just now. They would come back for him once they defeated Uldred. She rose slowly and made her way back towards her companions at the foot of the stairs.

"Are we just going to leave him there?" Alistair demanded.

"There is nothing that we can do for him. He is safer in that cage than out of it right now." Darcy said.

"But we can't just leave him there," Alistair insisted.

"And we won't. We will come back for him. Now we must focus on our task." Darcy replied firmly.

"Darcy is right. There is nothing we can do for him at this moment," Wynne agreed.

Alistair complied reluctantly. He knew they were right, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

Tormented screams rent the air as the group stepped into the Harrowing Chamber. They stood, transfixed in horror as a man was held between two abominations, screamed in agony and writhed in pain. A bald-headed mage stood in front of him, an expression of glee on his face, as he struck the man with spell after spell.

"Do you accept the gift I am offering you?" The bald-headed mage asked the tortured man.

The mage wearily nodded his head.

"Good. Very good," the mage, presumably Uldred, said in a soothing voice.

The abominations released the man and he crumpled to the floor. For a long moment, the man didn't stir, then an agonised scream tore through the air as his skin started to split and fall away to reveal another abomination in his place.

Leliana gave a startled cry, which brought Uldred's attention to the small group standing in the doorway.

"Ah, look, intruders. Have you come to join us in our revelry?" Uldred asked; laughing maniacally.

"I take it that you are Uldred," Darcy said; unimpressed.

"Oh, aren't you a bright one," he answered mockingly, "I am quite impressed that you are still alive. This must mean that you have killed my servants. How very unfortunate for them." He shook his head mournfully.

"Your concern for your lackeys are heartbreaking," Darcy retorted.

"Oh come now, let us not quibble over such trivial matters," Uldred said, waving his hand impatiently.

"Why are you torturing these people? What do you hope to achieve?"

"Why, I'm simply helping these poor mages reach their full potential. You, of all people, should understand the benefit of being pushed beyond your limits," Uldred said with a sly hint.

Darcy's muscles tensed, but she showed no outward signs that Uldred's comment struck a nerve.

"These people are not being pushed, you are torturing them until they relent or die. It is not the same." She forced her voice to stay calm.

"I fail to see the difference," Uldred shrugged noncommittally, "Your chantry has everyone convinced that mages are evil. They have convinced these pitiful fools to deny themselves the pleasure of becoming truly magnificent and powerful beings!"

"You are mad, Uldred! There is nothing magnificent in what you have done; what you have forced these people to become," Wynne exclaimed angrily.

Uldred threw his head back and laughed maniacally, "Ah dear Wynne, you always had a knack for sticking your nose into other people's business. I can give you this gift, Wynne, if you want it."

"I will never accept!" Wynne cried.

Uldred shook his head, "Some people are just so stubborn."

"This ends here, Uldred!" Darcy growled menacingly.

"More resistance!" Uldred shouted throwing his hands in aggravation, "Everywhere I go I am met with resistance. It is truly annoying."

"Perhaps you should ask yourself why." Darcy replied; growing tired of the conversation.

"Nonsense, they just don't know any better. Why, even First Enchanter Irving agrees with me. Isn't that so, Irving?"

"What have you done!" Wynne cried in horror.

A man with long grey hair and a beard, laying slumped against the wall, stirred weakly. His voice rasped painfully as he spoke, "S-stop him, he is creating an army and wants to destroy the Templars. He..."

"Tsk -tsk, you sly old fox, you. Don't you know that no one likes a tattler? And here I was thinking we were beginning to see eye to eye." Uldred said; cutting off whatever else Irving was going to say.

"Never!" the old man rasped.

"Enough! You will serve me eventually; as will you all." Uldred chuckled evilly.

"I think not. I would die first," Darcy said, bringing Uldred's attention back to her.

"Now that would be such a terrible waste. You have such excellent raw potential. Just think what you could become if you had the power of a demon behind you."

"I think I'll pass, thank you," Darcy said; readying herself for the battle that was about to ensue, "Becoming an ugly, deformed abomination is hardly an incentive."

"How very vain. Have you never heard the expression 'beauty is only skin deep'?" Uldred said; raising to his full height.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'If you have to kill a...' You know what, just die you bastard!" Darcy shouted as she grasped her swords and charged at Uldred.

She swung her sword at Uldred, but it never struck its target. Uldred had moved with lightning speed and was standing in the centre of the room. His skin started to split and peel away and in his place stood a giant creature. Horny scales covered its body like armour and row upon row of teeth glistened in the wide mouth.

"It is a demon of pride," Wynne shouted above the din, "He will be difficult to defeat."

"That thing is enormous! How are we supposed to kill it if we can't reach it?" Alistair shouted as he rammed his shield into an attacking abomination.

"We start hacking at it from the bottom and work our way up," Darcy answered; twisting out of the way, just as an abomination slashed at her with its arms.

"Are you serious?" Alistair exclaimed incredulously.

"When am I not serious?" Darcy countered; slicing through the thick skin of the abomination's abdomen.

Time for talk came to a halt as the last of the abominations died and the group focused all their attention on Uldred.

Leliana's arrows, as always flew straight and true, but it was hardly making a dent in the thick scales that covered the demon's body. Morrigan let loose an intense stream of fire which seemed to cause it some discomfort. Darcy and Alistair employed their haphazard plan and were running in close to slash at the demon's legs before dodging out of the way of its powerful arms. Wynne simply concentrated on keeping them all alive and every so often, Darcy could feel the cool, soothing effect of a rejuvenation spell.

It took a long time, but eventually they had managed to weaken the demon enough to make it topple over with a loud crash. Darcy wasted no time and raising her sword high, brought it down on the demon's exposed neck with a powerful blow. The head did not sever on the first strike and it took the joined effort of Darcy and Alistair to completely separate the head from the body.

* * *

Irving didn't survive. In fact, none of the mages that were trapped in the Harrowing Chamber did. They had found Cullen slumped in unconsciousness on the floor. Between them, they had carried him back down the endless corridors until they finally reached the entrance hall doors. It took some convincing, but eventually, Gregoir opened the heavy wooden doors for them.

After a good meal and some rest, Darcy had sat down with Gregoir and had debriefed him on all that transpired behind those closed doors. She told the Knight Commander how they had been trapped in the fade by a sloth demon and she explained how they had met Solana and Niall in the fade. She made sure he understood how Solana and Niall had helped them to defeat the sloth demon and how they had instructed them in the use of the litany. She made him promise that he would personally see to it that their bodies received a proper funeral and that Niall's message would reach his mother. She told him how they had found Cullen and all that had transpired in the Harrowing Chamber. She assured him several times that Uldred was indeed dead and would no longer be a threat. Most importantly, she made sure that he honoured the treaty held between the Circle and the Grey Wardens.

Wynne had decided that she would be joining Darcy and Alistair in their campaign, claiming that they would need a good healer. No begging and pleading on Gregoir's part could convince her to stay. She agreed to go to Redcliffe to assess Arl Aemon's condition, before joining Darcy and the rest of the group.

The young Templar, Cullen, had woken up in a more lucid state, but he refused to speak to anyone of what had happened to him. Darcy spoke to him for a short while and gave him his message from Solana. He had looked at her, contempt blazing in his eyes and said, "I'm glad she is dead." He had not spoken a word since.

After a good night's rest, the group, now including Wynne, had boarded the ferry and had crossed to the mainland where they met up with Sten and Teebone. Sten had refused to set foot in a tower full of mages and had stayed at the small inn, The Spoiled Princess, to await their return. Darcy had left Teebone with him to keep him company.

The following day they would escort Wynne back to Redcliffe, before the rest of them would set out for Denerim.

Darcy hoped with all her heart that what they had faced in the tower, was the worst of it, but something told her that worse was yet to come.

* * *

**Thank you for reading and every review, favourite and follow is greatly appreciated.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hi all, I promise I have not given up on this story, it is just ridiculously busy at the moment. I do apologise for the long delay and I will try to get the chapters to you as soon as I have the time.**

**This chapter has been Beta'd by EchoesOfSilence. Thank you lovely lady for your patience, time and support.**

**So last time our adventurers got trapped in the fade, managed to escape with a little help from Solana Amell and Niall, killed a lot of demons and managed to secure the aid of the Templars. **

**Now the adventurers finally arrive in Denerim...**

**Bioware owns Dragon age and all that is affiliated with it.**

* * *

"Talk to her," Leliana whispered to Alistair; making sure that Darcy didn't hear their conversation.

"I can't. Every time I try, she gives me this look that makes the words wither and die in my throat," Alistair answered glancing at Darcy with a worried expression.

"She hasn't said a word since leaving Wynne at Redcliffe," Leliana sighed, worrying her lip.

"I know." Alistair agreed.

Out of all of them, Darcy was the only one that hadn't spoken about what happened in the fade. She had withdrawn into herself and only spoke when someone spoke to her first or when she issued orders.

"Alistair, you must try and speak to her." Leliana urged him again.

"She doesn't want to talk. I can't make her talk; no one can make Darcy do anything that she doesn't want to do." Alistair kicked at a stone that lay in the road; feeling frustrated, angry and a little bit lost.

Over the past few weeks of being together, Alistair had begun to see Darcy as his source of calm and equilibrium. Nothing rattled Darcy and she always appeared outwardly calm in any situation. It was something that he admired about her. So, it was a little distressing to see her this way.

"She talks to you," Leliana said, "Out of all of us, she talks to you about her past and always asks your opinion about everything. She trusts you."

"She talks to you about those things too," Alistair observed; not feeling the least bit convinced by Leliana's argument.

"She doesn't share everything with me and she is more guarded than when she is with you." Leliana said softly.

"I don't understand," Alistair frowned.

"She is more relaxed when she is with you; she even allows herself to smile. That is not true when she speaks to the rest of us."

Alistair scratched the back of his head as he tried to sort through what Leliana was saying.

"Oh, I uh, haven't noticed that before. Are you sure?"

Leliana giggled, "Of course I'm sure. She got off the roof of that tower in Redcliffe when you spoke with her, didn't she? She seemed a lot happier and at peace after you spoke to her."

Alistair grimaced, "That was before I made a fool of myself by giving her that stupid rose. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Nonsense, you didn't make a fool of yourself; it was a lovely gesture and I know for a fact that it meant a lot to her." Leliana said; giving him a sly smile.

She had watched Darcy speak with Sandal, the travelling merchant's son, the following day. She was holding a beautiful rose in her hand which she showed to the young dwarf as she spoke. Sandal had grinned broadly, shouting "Enchantment!" before plucking the rose from her fingers and running to the merchant's cart to find his equipment.

"But she said she only wanted to be friends," Alistair mumbled dejectedly.

"And so you are giving up after just one try," Leliana shook her head; looking disappointed.

"But she said she couldn't be what I wanted her to be," Alistair was becoming more and more confused as the conversation progressed.

He didn't want to go over the events of that evening again. He had done so a million times in his own head already. Alistair had fooled himself when he thought he could handle it if Darcy did not reciprocate his feelings. Her rejection had stung more than he was ready to admit and he wasn't certain that he could handle it a second time. He had told her that he was alright with just being her friend, but he had lied about that; to himself and to her.

What was worse was the fact that he couldn't get her out of his mind. He wasn't so sure if he would have been able to resist if the demon _had _trapped him in a dream with Darcy. His dreams these last few days on the road to Denerim had been ... interesting. Having never had the opportunity for such... dalliances, he was at a loss as to how his mind could conjure up such images. He was not a complete innocent when it came to such things. He did, after all, share a dorm with other Templar recruits and six months with a bunch of rough and ready Grey Wardens could make even a more experienced man blush with some of their stories.

"That doesn't mean you should give up so easily Alistair," Leliana gently reprimanded.

"It doesn't?" Alistair asked; his eyebrows pulling up in confusion.

Leliana shook her head, "No, it doesn't and you shouldn't let it discourage you."

"I still don't understand," Alistair said; glancing at Darcy again, just to make sure that she was still walking ahead of them and hadn't heard their conversation.

"What Darcy meant was that you deserve better than what she can give you." Leliana explained gently.

Alistair shook his head; even more confused, "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would she even think that?"

"Darcy believes it's true." Leliana answered.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Alistair grumbled.

"Then maybe you should make her believe otherwise," Leliana suggested.

Alistair nodded. He would. He would make her believe that there was no one else that could even remotely be as perfect for him as she was.

* * *

Sten had been walking next to the little warrior for two hours now and still the little one had not uttered a word. He was grateful for the silence; he did not feel the need to fill each waking moment with unnecessary talking, but the warrior's silence was a little unsettling.

Usually the little one, (as he had started to call the little human in his mind) would ask him questions about his culture and his people and he would patiently answer a few of the questions before grumbling that they had better things to do with their time (like killing Darkspawn). Secretly, he enjoyed the little one's questions; always making the enquiry interesting; challenging him, making him think.

There was one question he refused to give an answer to; why he had murdered that family. Revealing the reasons behind the murder was too personal and, at first, he didn't believe that a puny human would be able to understand. Now, however, he was having second thoughts. The little warrior had shown remarkable skill, not only with swords, but with the mind; something that was cherished amongst his people. Perhaps this human would be capable of understanding why losing Asala had been like losing a limb. Without his sword, he was only half a warrior.

He did not like some of the decisions that the little one made; like saving that weak old human lying in a bed in the castle with the walking dead men. Even Sten could see that death wrapped around the old man like a cloak. He had reluctantly agreed to help after the little one had explained about the politics of the human culture. Sten couldn't care less, but he acceded that the human would know more about these things than he did.

He had _not_ liked the idea of walking into a tower full of unbound saarebas. It was foolishness and he had loudly objected to the idea. Of course, the little one had explained why it had been necessary to go to the tower and had even suggested that he stay at the inn to wait for the rest of them to return. He had agreed. Two days he had waited for them to return. On the third day he had come to the conclusion that the humans had fallen under the Saarebas spell and had had been corrupted. He had walked to the end of the pier, ready to demand that he be taken over to the tower to see for himself what had become of the humans. He had arrived just in time to see the humans return.

His two days of waiting had not been uneventful. After suffering the wary glances of the humans at the inn for most of the first morning, he decided that he would go about exploring the immediate countryside. Perhaps, he reasoned, he would find some Darkspawn to kill.

It did not take long before he had recognised the area as the place where he had lost his brothers after being attacked by Darkspawn shortly after landing in Ferelden. He and the Mabari had set out early on the second day to pay his respects to his brothers' final resting place only to find a human scavenger picking through the remains. Filled with righteous anger, he had chased the scavenger away, but not before learning of what happened to his beloved Asala.

Yes, he would speak to the little warrior of his Asala.

"You do not speak. I would know why." Sten spoke to the little human walking beside him.

"I do not wish to speak," Darcy answered, "I thought you prefered silence."

"I do," Sten agreed, "but there is a time and a place for speaking and I wish to speak. Will you listen?"

Darcy nodded, "Speak."

"You have asked me more than once why I murdered those farmers. I wish to tell you." Sten took the little one's silence as consent to proceed.

"The Arishok, leader of our armies, asked the question, 'What is the Blight', and we were sent here to find the answer. When we arrived, we were attacked by a large horde of Darkspawn. They were too numerous and overwhelmed us. When I awoke, it was to find that my brothers were dead and my sword gone. The farmers who found me offered to give me aid. I demanded they tell me where my sword was and when they did not know, I killed them."

A long silence stretched between them before Darcy finally spoke.

"You killed those people because you lost your sword."

It was not a question, but a statement. It carried no judgement, nor did it carry anger.

"Yes." Sten answered.

"Why?"

"My people believe that the sword of a warrior carries his soul. Without it, I am lost."

"Do you have any idea where to begin looking for it?" Darcy asked; finally looking at the giant man.

"Yes," Sten answered again.

"Then we will find it." Darcy said; nodding confidently.

And he believed it would be so.

* * *

Morrigan glanced in the direction of giant and the petite Warden and rolled her eyes as she heard Darcy make yet another promise that she would no doubt keep, or die trying, because she was duty bound to honour it.

Personally, she thought Darcy could do with a little less honour and duty. Then, on the other hand, she could use this to her advantage. Judging from what she had so far been reading in Mother's Black Grimoire; she may just have to call on Darcy for a favour herself.

She shuddered as she remembered the words she had read by the light of her little campfire the previous evening. If what the Grimoire said was true, then Mother was not to be trusted and therefore, Mother would need to be dealt with. Morrigan was not foolish enough to think that Mother would be easily defeated. Mother had not lived as long as she had otherwise and now, Morrigan knew how she had managed it.

Facing Mother herself would be impossible, since Mother could simply perform the ritual there and then and Morrigan would be no more. No, someone else would have to go in her stead and she knew just who to ask...

Morrigan glanced sideways at the now silent pair; one, tall, proud and stoic giant and one small, duty and honour bound woman. Yes, she would ask Darcy to help her with her little problem.

She would still carry out her task as Mother had told her to, but she would do it for herself. She gave Alistair a baleful glare that made the idiot start and nearly trip over his own feet. Why the last male Grey Warden had to be a buffoon, she could not say. But, she was willing to pay the price; no price was too high for something so valuable.

Now if Alistair had only been a bit more like the Qunari... She glanced at the tall figure that was walking slightly ahead of her. His back was straight and strong; his head held high. His arms and legs were thick ropes of muscle and he moved with a grace that was uncharacteristic in someone of his size. Morrigan knew that the Qunari had no place in their culture for such intimate relations. If a Qunari got the urge, they were simply entered into a breeding program until it was no longer a problem.

She wondered what Sten would make of her advances. No doubt he would not take kindly to it, but it certainly would be amusing and it would pass the time during their travels when there was nothing to do but walk.

A sly smile plucked at the corners of her mouth as she moved to catch up with Sten and Darcy. Who knew, maybe Sten would surprise her. Stranger things had happened...

* * *

"We will enter Denerim an hour before the gates close for the night. We will have to be careful not to draw attention to ourselves," Darcy eyed Alistair sceptically; wondering if he was at all capable of staying covert.

"Where will we be staying?" Alistair asked; donning the cloak that Bodahn had procured for him and Darcy. The cunning merchant was turning out to be very handy to have around.

"We will stay at the Pearl for now. From there we can assess the situation and see just how welcome we are in Denerim," Darcy answered putting on her own cloak.

"The Pearl? Huh, sounds like a nice enough place," Alistair shrugged.

He got a few odd looks from Darcy and the others and he wondered what he had said now. He shrugged again and settled down to wait for the cover of darkness before entering the sprawling city of Denerim.

An hour before the gates were due to close for the night, the companions joined the throng of tired citizens returning to the city after a long day of work. Most of them laboured on the surrounding farms and left the city walls early in the mornings, returning just before the gates were due to close. The throng of labourers provided the perfect cover for the companions and they managed to slip into the city without being noticed. Staying to the shadows as much as possible, Darcy led the motley group through a maze of dark alleys and little backstreets until finally reaching their destination.

The Pearl. A house of ill repute where the business deals were shady, the entertainment was lewd and a person could stay unnoticed if he, or she so chose. It was the perfect place for the companions to stay and maintain a low profile while they were in the city.

To Alistair, the smell of tobacco smoke and spilt ale was expected. So was the sea-hardened sailors who were deep into their cups and the raucous laughter of a few burly men playing cards. There was even the customary barkeep in a dirty smock polishing a tankard with an even dirtier rag. What was not expected was the scantily clad girls, displaying their various assets and flirting with the patrons. Alistair stared in shock as one of the women, dressed only in her undergarments, was pulled onto a thuggish looking man's lap and groped hard enough to make her yelp in pain, much to the delight of the occupants at the table.

"If you want to keep out of trouble in this place, you will stop staring," Darcy spoke by his side in a low whisper.

Alistair finally managed to tear his eyes away from the sight and scowled angrily at Darcy.

"A brothel? Why in the name of the Maker would you bring us to a brothel?"

"Would you rather we stayed at the Gnawed Noble where every Arl, Bann and any other person who fancies himself noble will be staying?" Darcy asked patiently.

"Well what's the harm in wanting to stay in a place where you can be certain to wake up alive the next morning?" Alistair demanded.

Darcy nodded, "Hmm, and I am certain that you won't begrudge the person who reports our whereabouts to Loghain the moment we set foot in that place and claims his just reward. From what I can tell, the reward is quite substantial."

She fished a crumpled piece of parchment from one of the many pockets on her belt and held it out to Alistair. Taking the parchment, he unfolded it and gasped as he looked at an image that closely resembled himself. Above the image, written in big, bold lettering was the word 'Wanted'. Underneath this, written in smaller letters, was the words 'for acts of treason against the crown.' Underneath the sketch a reward of one hundred gold was offered.

"Oh, uhm..." Alistair didn't really know what to say.

Darcy smiled reassuringly and patted his arm, "Don't worry, I will make sure you wake up alive in the morning. Come on, I will show you to your room," she smiled.

Alistair smiled bashfully and followed Darcy up some rickety stairs and down a long corridor with rooms on either side. Fumbling with the piece of parchment, he opened it once more and frowned.

"Do you think my nose is really that big?"

* * *

In the mid-morning hustle and bustle of Denerim's busy market district, no one saw the cloaked figure slip from shadow to shadow as it made its way to a small, secluded back-alley, notorious for its more illicit merchandise.

The figure paused and checked that the hood of the cloak properly obscured the face hidden underneath, before slipping into the alley. In the mid-summer heat, the stench of urine and rubbish littering the small street was almost overpowering. The shadowy figure did not seem to notice, however, too intent on finding its destination.

Three quarters of the way down the alley, the figure stopped and studied an unremarkable wooden door that would be easily missed if one didn't know to look for it. Two crow's wings were carved into the wood of the door; indicating that this was indeed the place. Stepping forward, the figure stretched out a gloved hand to grab the door handle and twisted it open. The heavy door squeaked loudly on its hinges as it swung slowly inwards and the shadowy figure stepped into the semi-darkness of the room inside.

Rows and rows of shelves lined every wall of the small shop and dust motes floated in the meagre sunlight that filtered through a filthy window. The shelves held a myriad of caltrops, triggers, concentrator, distillation and corrupter agents and other trap-making paraphernalia. On a smaller shelf, hidden in a corner was a collection of vials and bottles of all shapes and sizes, no doubt containing deathroot extract, magebane, deep mushroom and various other poisons. Behind the counter that stretched the width of the small room a vast array of daggers, dirks and large knives were neatly displayed in a display cabinet. On the counter itself a smaller collection of pocket knives and throwing daggers were displayed.

A squat, barrel-chested man appeared in the doorway that led to another room beyond the counter. He had a dark complexion and a bushy beard and his beady eyes were small and calculating as they studied the figure in front of him. He rubbed his hands together at the thought of making his first sale of the day and he stepped around the counter to greet his customer.

The figure had picked up a sleek looking throwing knife and was testing the weight if it; turning it this way and that way to first study the handle and then the blade. The merchant cleared his throat politely and the figure returned the knife to its place on the counter.

"Ah, messere, welcome to my little store," the merchant began, "It is very pleased, I am that you would take the time to browse my merchandise."

The merchant spoke with an Antivan accent and a small smile plucked at the corners of the figure's mouth; satisfied that this was the contact she had been told about.

"Cesar, I presume," the figure said and the merchant's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sound of the feminine voice.

Cesar bowed deeply, "At your service, my lady, how may I help you."

"I seek the Birdwatcher," the woman stated.

Cesar's eyes sharpened and studied the figure in front of him speculatively.

"The Birdwatcher is a busy man. He has many birds in his care and must ensure that they are all well. Why do you wish to see the Birdwatcher?"

The hooded woman nodded, "I understand that he must be very busy indeed, but I would be very grateful if I could speak with him. I wish to hear a tale that only he can tell me."

The woman needed information then. Cesar was intrigued. No one outside of their organisation knew the coded language they used to convey messages. Cesar thought he knew all the agents that operated within the city of Denerim, but he did not recognise this woman at all.

"I will send a messenger bird with tidings of his whereabouts. Who will I say is looking for him?" Cesar said.

A small pouch of coins exchanged hands before the woman spoke, this time in perfect Antivan.

"Tell him one who walks the shadows is looking for him. Your messenger bird may find me at the Pearl."

Cesar's eyes grew wide and he bowed deeply once more, "Of course my lady."

When he came upright again he was alone. The only proof that the woman had been there, was the small pouch of coins.

* * *

Alistair scowled, watching the entrance of the Pearl from his vantage point at one of the round tables in the bar area. A tankard of barely touched ale sat in front of him and he absentmindedly traced the rim of it with his index finger.

Darcy had given him the slip... Again! They had been staying at the Pearl for almost a week and so far, he had been stuck inside the entire time. Reasonably, Darcy had explained that they needed to lay low whilst in Denerim, because there were wanted posters of the two of them all over the city. Still, he didn't think it was fair that everyone else got to go out and he had to be stuck inside this place. He shuddered, thinking of all the things he had witnessed this past week and no amount of hot water and soap would get rid of the dirty feeling that surrounded him.

He had been trying all week to speak to Darcy about what happened during the time they were trapped in the Fade, but to no avail. She would either change the subject or simply disappear when he wasn't looking.

He had tried to get advice from Sten, but that had been a mistake. The Qunari had just stared at him in horror when Alistair had asked him how he would go about wooing a woman, especially one like Darcy. He didn't know what he had said, but since then, the big man refused to be anywhere near him.

Leliana was no good either, since she just gave cryptic hints as to why Darcy might be behaving in a certain manner; it was just confusing. Why did women have to be so complicated?

He didn't even bother asking Morrigan. She was more likely to turn him into a toad than give him relationship advice. Darcy had assured him that there was no such spell, but he wasn't so sure. One could never be too careful.

So, today he was on a mission. He was determined to speak with her about her dream and he was determined to convince her that he needed to get out of this place. Movement at the entrance pulled Alistair out of his musing and he watched as a hooded figure entered the bar area. The figure lowered the hood revealing rich, auburn hair tied in a familiar braid. Several strands had escaped their binding and fell softly around a face that has become a fixture in his every waking and sleeping moment. Alistair watched as Darcy walked over to the bar and orders a tankard of ale before making her way over to where he was sitting. The smile she gave him almost made him forget that he was actually angry with her.

"Hello Alistair," she said before taking the seat next to him.

Alistair had noticed that, whenever possible, Darcy would sit with her back to the wall so that she had a perfect view of the entire room and entrance. Darcy was very subtle about it, but Alistair knew that she was constantly scanning the room and its patrons; observing everyone and everything.

"Hello Darcy," he greeted tersely; hoping that he could maintain his angry facade until he had managed to say everything that he wanted to say.

Her smile faltered and a small frown appeared between her eyebrows.

"You are angry with me," she stated.

"Yes, I am angry with you," Alistair agreed. "You gave me the slip again this morning when I had said that I wanted to go with you."

Darcy's face was unreadable as she silently studied Alistair over her tankard of ale.

"Must we go over this again, Alistair?" she said sounding a little tired, "We simply cannot risk being detected within the city; there are posters up everywhere."

"So you've said," Alistair agreed, "but you fail to understand my need to get out of this place; even if it is just for a couple of hours." He looked at her pleadingly; willing her to relent and let him go with her the next time she went out.

Darcy sighed. She knew he was having a hard time staying cooped up in a place like this and she could not blame him, but the risk of being discovered was too high. She wished she could explain to him the real reason why they had to be careful. She had no doubt that Loghain knew exactly who Alistair was. Why else would he be so adamant to find two, insignificant Grey Wardens? He would not go to all this trouble if he was merely worried that they would accuse him of treason at Ostagar. Loghain was a hero in the eyes of the people of Ferelden; who would believe their word over his?

The more she thought about it, the more certain she was of the fact that King Cailan was not a complete fool after all. Cailan had to have known that Loghain planned to betray him. That is why he conspired with Duncan to get him out of the Chantry's clutches and into the order of the Grey Wardens. It was a risky gamble considering the fact that Alistair might not have survived the ritual, but then, Cailan may not have been aware of this. Yes, she was certain that Alistair was Cailan's back-up plan. Alistair may have been born a bastard, but he still had royal blood.

"Alistair, there is no way that you will not be recognised out there and it is not possible for you to stay unnoticed, since you insist on encasing yourself in all that metal." She gestured with her hand to the armour that he was even now wearing.

"This _metal _has saved my life on many occasions, so don't dismiss it so readily." Alistair said loftily, "But, if it means that you will let me out of this Maker forsaken place, then I will wear something that is less obvious. Please Darcy, let me come with you. I'm afraid that I may fall victim to a certain ship's captain's advances. I am running out of excuses as to why I cannot 'pudding her peach', 'Grey her Warden', or 'float her frigate!'" Alistair's cheeks burned a brighter red with every phrase he uttered, but he had to make Darcy understand.

It was the sad, pleading puppy eyes that made Darcy take pity on him. "Very well, Alistair, you may come with me tonight when I meet with a contact on three conditions. One, you must find some suitable leather armour, two, you will not ask questions, three, you will do exactly as I say."

Alistair grinned happily and took a large sip of his ale, "Yes sir!" He said, giving her a mock salute.

Darcy glared at him, "That is not funny."

"It is a little," Alistair teased with twinkling eyes.

"So this ship's captain..." Darcy began, attempting to change the subject.

Alistair blushed again and fiddled with the tankard of ale in front of him. "Her name is Isabela and she has been staying here these past few days, propositioning everything on two legs," Alistair scowled.

"And she sought to proposition you?" Darcy asked; restraining the smile that threatened to form on her lips.

"More than once," Alistair mumbled.

"And you declined?"

"Yes, of course!" he answered indignantly.

"Where you not at all curious as to what she might have to offer?" Darcy asked; genuinely curious.

"I suspect the only thing that she might have to offer would result in me having to see a Healer soon afterwards."

Darcy canted her head to the side and studied Alistair for a moment, "Is that the only reason you had for declining?"

"Uh, yes," Alistair nodded. The blush was now creeping down his neck and he was shifting nervously on the edge of his seat.

Darcy gave him a shrewd smile, "Alistair... Have you ever..."

Alistair's eyes met Darcy's over the table and he swallowed nervously. This was _not _the conversation he planned to have with Darcy tonight!

"Have I ever...What?" Alistair asked innocently.

Darcy's smile grew wider, "Come now Alistair, you know what I'm talking about."

"Nope, I don't believe I do. You will have to enlighten me." Alistair took a large gulp of ale and wondered at his sudden brazenness. The ale must have been stronger than he thought!

"Have you ever been with a woman," Darcy said; rolling her eyes at him.

"I'm not sure I understand. You will have to explain what you mean when you say 'been with a woman'. As far as I can tell, you are a woman and I am with you now," he frowned, "Although, Sten seems to think that you are a man. You may have to speak to him about that."

"Sex, Alistair. Have you ever had sex?" Darcy said exasperatedly, "And what do you mean Sten thinks I'm a man?"

"I asked his opinion about something and your name came up. I referred to you as a woman at which point Sten gasped in horror and stalked off; muttering something about only men are warriors and such things should never be allowed." Alistair shrugged. "As for your other question, the answer is no. I have never had the pleasure." He lingered over the word 'pleasure'; drawing it out and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Darcy chuckled, "It is as I suspected. Perhaps you should take Isabela up on her offer ."

Alistair shook his head, "No, I would prefer to experience it with someone I care about."

"A very romantic notion," Darcy nodded, "but not a very practical one considering that we face annihilation if we fail to kill the Archdemon."

He shrugged, "Perhaps, but, you never know, I might find the love of my life along the way." He looked longingly into her beautiful, grey eyes; willing her to understand the true meaning of his words. "So, have you ever been with a man?"

Darcy willed the smile to stay on her face as she thought of the time she had spent with Rory.

"Yes, I have. Once"

Alistair felt a sudden surge of jealousy for the man, whoever he was. He wondered if it had been someone she cared about and if she still had feelings for him.

"Anyone I might know?" Alistair asked hesitantly; knowing he was playing with fire, but he couldn't help himself.

"No," she replied in a clipped tone.

Alistair would have continued questioning her, but Leliana and Sten burst through the door and walked over to where he and Darcy was sitting. He heard Leliana say "Soooofffftieeeeee" in a sing-song voice and noticed Sten's brooding face. He sighed, knowing that for now their conversation was at an end.

* * *

**Thank you for all your reviews, favourites and follows; I appreciate every single one of them.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hi folks, sorry it has been such a while since I have posted a chapter. Things have been a little hectic with school and home life, but at least summer school is out of the way now.**

**I must have written and rewritten this chapter about 30 times and I am very nervous about what the response will be, so I will appreciate any constructive feedback from you.**

**I want to thank everyone that is still reading this story as well as those of you who have reviewed, favourited and followed it. Without you I would probably have given up on this story ages ago.**

**This chapter has been edited by my Beta and friend EchoesOfSilence - if it wasn't for her this chapter would definitely not have seen the light of day. Harris the groundskeeper is dedicated to her and her love for all things Scottish.**

**This chapter does contain a bit of adult content, so if you are not supposed to read it, close your eyes!**

**So here goes... I hope you like it!**

**Bioware owns Dragon Age and all that is affiliated with it. The crazy Scotsman is my own creation.**

* * *

Alistair didn't like this. Sneaking around was one thing, but sneaking around in dark little back alleys was quite something else. Of course, Darcy seemed right at home flitting from one shadow to the next. He, on the other hand, felt like every hair on his neck was standing on end. Even Teebone seemed restless.

It has been four days since Darcy had allowed him to accompany her on her nightly excursions into the underbelly of Denerim. In particular, these excursions included meeting up with a fence by the name of Slim Cauldry. Alistair had to stifle a snicker every time he heard the man's name. For all that the man's name suggested, _Slim_ Cauldry was most definitely not what Alistair would call 'slim'. Cauldry was in fact a rather portly fellow with bright red hair, pasty skin and a jowly chin.

Alistair had been surprised to discover that, whilst he had been moping around at the Pearl feeling forlorn and neglected, Darcy had been busy raising capital and collecting favours for their quest against the Blight. He was shocked and angry when he had first realised how Darcy was acquiring these funds. Stealing was wrong. It had been ingrained in him from a young age, but, for some reason, the idea of Loghain being a few bars of silver poorer was rather amusing. And besides, Darcy didn't keep all of the loot. A large portion of it went to feeding and clothing Denerim's poorest citizens.

Darcy had also been enquiring after her brother, Fergus, but, so far she had had no luck. Tonight, however, they had been in luck. Slim had heard a rumour that a man was making subtle enquiries about the whereabouts of the Cousland siblings. Darcy had immediately arranged to meet with the man and that was why they now found themselves creeping about in dark alleys.

A scuffling sound coming from behind Alistair made him jump and he had to press his hand firmly over his own mouth to stop himself from shrieking like a girl.

"It was probably a cat," Darcy quietly informed him.

He nodded vigorously, "Y-yes, a cat, of course," he gave a nervous little laugh.

"Don't worry Alistair, I'll protect you," Darcy said; smiling sweetly.

"I have no doubt about that," Alistair mumbled; feeling silly for jumping at every little sound. He really needed to man up; he couldn't go on hiding behind a girl every time something scary happens. Even if the girl was ridiculously strong and fearless.

A low growl rumbled in Teebone's chest and Alistair could see the large hound bearing its teeth. They were not alone in this dark alley. The growl became louder and more threatening the further into the alley they went. They were moving cautiously now and Darcy paused every few steps to listen out for any noise.

* * *

Teebone didn't like this place, there were too many smells and none of them were nice. He didn't even want to think what was squishing under his paws every time he took a step. Only Mistress' calm voice and soothing hand on his head stopped him from searching out the danger.

He kept close to his mistress and her mate, the one with the light hair and twinkly eyes. He liked the mistress' mate, he always gave him some cheese. Of course his mistress denied that the friendly man was her mate, but he was no fool. He knew because they smelled right together, not like the serious man with the red hair and the green eyes. That man didn't like it when he jumped up to say hello and always told him off when he was caught sniffing around the room where all the food was kept. When that man was with his mistress, they didn't smell right.

Teebone paused to sniff at a suspicious looking crate, there had definitely been a cat here not so long ago. He felt disappointed that the cat wasn't there anymore; a good chase might make him feel better.

Another smell jumped out at him as he continued to sniff the ground. This smell was not good; it was danger. Immediately all his senses was focused on the darkness in front of him. Something was lurking in there, watching them. He had to protect his mistress. He made a low growling sound in his chest as a warning to the danger, but it didn't back down. Teebone growled louder and exposed his teeth. It was a man, Teebone could smell it now that he was closer. The man must have been in this alley for some time, because it obscured the man's normal smell. Teebone's nose twitched as he tried to determine the man's smell once again. There was something familiar about the smell, but Teebone couldn't be sure. The most overpowering smell was danger and Teebone wasn't about to take any chances where his mistress was concerned. The man has had plenty of warning and he still did not back down.

There was only one thing left to do. The muscles in his body tensed and he crouched low as he readied himself for his attack. He gave one final warning growl before he leapt...

* * *

"Haud yer wheesht, ye daft beastie! Do ye nae ken yer ol' training master? It's nae been that long since we've seen each other."

Alistair stood transfixed as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. One minute Teebone was still growling and the next the great hound had leapt into the shadows at whatever was lurking there. Now, the dog was jumping up and down and wagging his stump of a tail with such speed that his whole behind was wagging too. Just what was going on here and what was that man saying? It sounded like the common tongue, but it was most definitely not a dialect that he has ever heard before.

Next to him, Darcy gave a strangled cry and then she too was running at the man and throwing her arms around him. Alistair didn't know whether to attack the man or join them for a cuddle. He was thoroughly confused, again.

"Harris, its' really you!" Alistair could hear the emotion in Darcy's voice,, "I had hoped when they told me someone was looking for me that it would be you, but I didn't believe it was possible."

"Och aye lass, surely ye didnae think that bastard got Ol' Harris now, did ye?"

Alistair watched the shadowy figure pat Darcy on the head in an almost fatherly gesture. He wished that they could come out of the shadows so that he could get a good look at this man who was so familiar with Darcy. He felt a pang of jealousy surge through him before he could check himself. He sighed, this was going to be a long night.

* * *

"I couldn't be sure if you managed to escape. I did not know if anyone else survived. Mother and Father are... I wanted to stay and protect them, but Father wouldn't let me and then the Grey Warden - "

"Hush lass, I ken, I ken, dinnae worrit yer head o'er it."

Darcy could feel herself coming undone and she desperately tried to keep a hold of her emotions. When Slim Cauldry had told her that someone by Harris' description was asking after her and her brother, she didn't dare hope, but here he was. He was almost as close to her as her own father was. Indeed, Old Harris had watched her grow up - had picked her up when she skinned her knee and her father wasn't readily available, had shown her how to train the great Mabari hounds, had shown her how to track and hunt, lay traps and survive in the wilderness. Old Harris was part of the family.

She hid her face in the folds of his old leather jerkin as she fought to keep her emotions under control. His arms held her close to him and he crooned words of his native tongue in her ear. She felt safe for the first time in a long while and all she wanted to do was let go of all the pent up hurt and emotions, but she knew she couldn't. She had to stay strong for Alistair and the rest of their group, for Fergus, for her parents, for Harris and for herself.

Taking a deep breath, she buried all her feelings in that part of her heart where she never dared to tread and put a smile on her face.

"Come on, let's get back to the Pearl and sort out some quarters for you. Then I want to hear everything that's happened since that night."

She broke free of the older man's embrace and walked towards where Alistair was waiting. He looked a little uncomfortable and she felt a little bit guilty for not including him in the conversation. She would apologise later.

"Aye lass, that will be a fine thing," Harris agreed as he followed her back towards where Alistair was waiting.

Darcy smiled encouragingly at Alistair. He returned her smile with one of his own, but it was forced and not at all convincing. Darcy sighed and took the lead as they made their way back through the alley and towards the Pearl.

* * *

"I was out tracking that sly fox that was eatin' yer Da's chickens."

They were all sitting at one of the round tables in the bar area of the Pearl. Darcy had introduced everyone to Harris and now everyone was hanging on to his every single word. The old groundskeeper was an excellent story teller and Darcy could recall sitting around many a campfire listening to him as he told them of his adventures in his own country of Starkhaven.

"So I hadnae been home fer a few days. That fox lead me on a merry chase, but in the end it lead me right back to the barn. It was a few hours afore the dawn would break so, I thought I'd get a wee bit of shut eye. I was just making meself comfortable when the screamin started. I watched as Howe's guards started to set fire to all the outbuildings..."

Darcy had her hands clenched into tight fists as she listened to Harris recount what he had seen that night. She took a large sip of ale from the tankard, but it did not seem to help much. A warm hand enfolded her tightly balled fist and she looked up into Alistair's eyes. He gave her a small smile and squeezed her hand encouragingly. She returned his smile and her hand relaxed under the warm comfort of his.

"... So that's how I managed to trap some of the bastards in the barn. I managed to sneak into the keep, but I was already too late, I..."

Harris lowered his head and stared deeply into the tankard that stood before him on the table. It was as hard for him to tell as it was for Darcy to hear. Leliana gave a wide yawn and stretched her arms above her head.

"Oh I am so tired, I believe I will go to bed now. Thank you for telling us such wonderful stories, Harris. I am sure we will see each other again in the morning." She rose from her chair and glanced meaningfully at Sten and Morrigan.

Sten rose and left without saying a word, but Morrigan rolled her eyes and huffed her indignation before she too said goodnight and disappeared off to bed. The remaining three at the table sat in quiet contemplation for a long time before Alistair also excused himself and dragged his tired body to bed.

"How are ye really doing, lass?" Harris asked gently when they were finally alone. His dark eyes studied her carefully over the rim of his tankard.

Darcy swallowed past the lump in her throat and forced herself to look him in the eyes.

"Some days are harder than others, but truthfully, I have not really found the time to sit down and think on it all." She took a shuddering breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly.

Harris was still watching her with his sharp eyes that didn't miss the fact that she was trembling with the effort to keep herself together. He took another sip from his tankard before sitting back against the chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"Tell me," was all he said.

And she did. She told him everything from finding her mother and discovering Orana and her little nephew, to finding her father in the larder by the secret exit. She told him all about Ostagar and Redcliffe and everything that happened in the Circle Tower, including her dream, and finally, she finished with Denerim and what they had been doing since their arrival.

It felt like a great load had lifted from her shoulders when she finally stopped talking. She couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped. Harris was quiet for such a long time that Darcy began to worry that there was something wrong. She was just going to call his name, when he finally started talking.

"Och, lass, ye shouldnae have to go through all of this. It's nae right." He shook his head vehemently for emphasis. "I told yer Da back then that he shouldnae let you go with that Crow. But why would he listen to an old groundskeeper like me. Nay, he gave in tae yer pleading and sad eyes and off ye trotted. Ye were ne'er the same after ye came back."

Darcy frowned, "What has my training got to do with anything?"

His sharp eyes captured hers and held it in his gaze, "It has everything tae do with it. D'ya really think Duncan came tae Highever for Ser Gilmore? If so, then ye're a numpty. He was after ye and well ye know it. D'ya really think you would be allowed to train as an assassin without the king knowing about it? Of course he knew, he had his eye on you fer a long time now. Yer skills with the sword and bow has attracted much political attention."

"What do you mean?" Darcy asked.

"Cailan wanted to establish a group of secret agents that he could send into the rest of Thedas for information gathering, much like the Bards of Orlais. You were going to be the very first royal assassin. Cailan had known fer a long time that something was not right, but he didnae ken who would betray him. He knew his father had a bastard son who had been raised in the chantry and so he made his contingency plan. He made contact with the Commander of the Grey and told him all about you and his brother. Duncan conscripted the boy and then headed off for Highever to conscript you. Yer father was against it, but Duncan would have found a way around it. That Howe decided to pick that verra time to betray yer Da was just convenient fer Duncan."

Darcy sat quietly and listened to all that Harris was telling her. On some level she had known all of this, but she never could connect the dots until now.

"How do you know all of this, Harris?"

He put his tankard down with a bump and looked at her; a slow smile spreading over his face. He scratched his bushy salt and pepper bearded chin before he answered.

"Ye dinnae ken that I'm really just an old groundskeeper now do ye lass?"

Darcy couldn't help but smile, "No, I always knew there was something more to you."

Harris laughed and beckoned one of the wenches over to order another tankard of ale. When he was satisfied that the woman knew what he wanted, he turned his attention back to Darcy.

"So lass, are ye going tae tell me all about that young man of yers or am I going tae have tae drag it out of ye bit by bit."

Darcy was momentarily taken aback, but she managed to keep her features perfectly schooled.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said innocently. Of course she knew what he was thinking, but she was not going to make it easy on him.

"Och lass, yer a good liar, but I'm better. So why don't ye try and run that one by me again."

She smiled wryly and took a sip of ale so that she could collect her thoughts.

"Alistair has convinced himself that he is in love with me. I have told him that it couldn't work, but he doesn't seem to understand."

"And just why cannae it work?" Harris asked; raising a sceptical eyebrow.

Darcy ran her hands over her face and through her hair in frustration.

"You know very well why it cannot work. Alistair is too good for me."

Harris gave her a calculating look, "What ye mean to say is that ye dinnae want to allow yerself to fall in love, because ye are too afeared of being hurt again."

Darcy bit her lip and nodded.

"D'ya know what I think? I think ye truly are a numpty."

Well that was not what she had expected him to say. "Uhm, okay?"

"Aye, ye are. The lad looks at ye like a starving man who wants meat."

Darcy cringed at his analogy, but she let Harris continue on his rant.

"Ye cannae write love off, just because ye were hurt once before and ye cannae have love unless ye reach out and grab it with both hands. It is a risky thing, aye, but when ye find that one person who can look past all yer faults, yer hang-ups and screw-ups, and sees ye fer who ye truly are, then it is worth it. Dinnae let yer past hurt come in the way of yer future happiness." Harris took a sip of the new tankard of ale and smiled at her looking very pleased with himself.

"And say I let myself have feelings for Alistair and he finds out what I truly am, what then? I do not want to go through all of that again. Alistair is a good man, he deserves someone who is just as good as he is."

"Ye're wrong, ye are good enough for him, ye just need to believe it." He emphasised his point by stabbing at the table top with a knobbly index finger.

Darcy shook her head in denial, "No, I'm not. I wasn't good enough for Roland and I'm not good enough for Alistair."

"Ser Gilmore was an arse. I stick to what I told ye earlier. Don't let this chance at happiness pass ye by. Life goes by so quickly. Before ye know it, ye're old and ye start to regret not doing things when ye are young and ye had the time tae make mistakes."

"Ser Gilmore saved my life in the end," Darcy said a little defensively.

He picked up his tankard and drained the rest of his ale in two large gulps before thumping the empty tankard back onto the table.

"Aye," he nodded, "So he did. I'm heading tae bed now, lass. Ye have a good think about what I just told ye. Goodnight, lass."

He bent down and kissed her lightly on the top of her head before heading off up the stairs to the sleeping quarters.

Darcy did think about what Harris had said. She sat at the table for a long time after everyone else had gone to bed with only Teebone for company. It was as the first rays of dawn touched the night sky that Darcy finally got up and went to bed.

* * *

"Ah, good morning to ye laddie, how are ye this fine morning?"

Alistair groaned inwards as he spied Harris sitting at the same table they had all sat at last night. He had hoped if he got up early to have breakfast, he would avoid bumping into anyone. He most definitely did not want to spend any time with the old groundskeeper. For one thing, he could barely understand what the man was saying and for another... Well, he was jealous. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it. He had never seen Darcy smile so brightly, or talk so animatedly with anyone before. He had never seen her embrace anyone so freely either and he found himself wishing that it had been him that she embraced.

"Uh, good morning," Alistair mumbled.

Harris chuckled and eyed the young man speculatively, "Didnae ye have a good night's sleep? Ye know if ye want a good night sleep ye are in the right place. Lots of wenches in here tae keep ye warm at night."

Alistair felt his cheeks warm as he blushed. Escape, he needed to escape.

"Och come now, lad, I was only pulling yer leg. Sit down and have something to eat, a man cannae start the day on an empty belly." Harris gestured to the chair at the opposite side of the table.

Alistair shook his head, "Thank you, but I'm not hungry. I think I will just go back up to my room and try to get some more sleep." He turned to walk away.

"I think it will benefit ye more tae stay and chat," Harris said; he was smiling, but his eyes were flashing dangerously.

Alistair shook his head again, "No I'm sorry but -"

"Sit down lad," Harris had lost all pretence of smiling and glared at the younger man.

Alistair swallowed nervously and sat down in the chair that was offered to him. Harris took a bite of the bread that was on his breakfast plate and chewed slowly whilst he watched the young man squirm under his gaze. He swallowed the lump of bread and made a big show of wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I've never been a man of many words and I don't plan on changing now, so what I want to know is; exactly what are yer intentions with Darcy." Harris leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest while he waited for Alistair to stop gaping at him like a fish out of water.

"I uh, what?" Alistair managed to squeak.

"Ye heard me, lad. There's nae denying it, she already told me everything last night."

Alistair was gaping again. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming all of this. Perhaps he was still in his bed and he finally did fall asleep after all.

"Wh-what do you mean she told you everything last night?"

"I asked her about ye and she told me that ye had confessed yer undying love for her."

The man was mocking him, Alistair realised. This was all a great big joke to him. Alistair was beginning to get angry.

"I don't see how this has got anything to do with you. Now, if you will excuse me -"

"Ye are not excused," Harris' hard tone brooked no argument, "It certainly is my business. I am the closest thing tae a father that girl has right now and I want tae know what yer intentions are."

Alistair sighed, defeated, "I don't have any. She doesn't want me, so there is no use in trying."

There was a long pause before Harris finally spoke.

"Ye are just as daft as she is." He sounded almost disappointed.

"Excuse me?" Alistair asked, not sure where this conversation was heading now?

"I said, ye are an eejit." Harris replied.

"I don't understand..." Alistair said, feeling very confused. He seemed to be permanently confused these days.

"Back in my day ye didnae give up so easily. Ye fought fer what ye wanted. I can remember the days when I pursued my Agnes," Harris got a dreamy look in his eyes, "Aye, she was a bonnie lass, my Aggie, but she lead me on a merry chase before I finally won her heart. But, by the Maker, when I finally got her tae be mine it was like I finally started living fer the first time. Everything before that was just existing."

Harris was staring into empty space as if he was reliving old memories. It softened the hard lines of his face and Alistair thought that perhaps the man wasn't quite so bad. Alistair carefully cleared his throat and when Harris' attention snapped back to the present, he was serious again.

"It doesnae take a genius to know that Darcy is different from other girls her age. The lass is young, but she has experienced a lot of hurt in a short time. So, ye better make sure that if ye do pursue her, ye are willing to accept her for who she is no matter what she has done or will do in the future."

Alistair frowned at the cryptic message, but didn't say anything. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really know how to respond to that, so he decided to just nod. Harris smiled unexpectedly and pushed his plate away from him before getting up. He walked around the table and placed a firm hand on Alistair's shoulder.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other. Oh, and remember, if ye hurt her, I will hunt you down and kill ye." Harris squeezed Alistair shoulder before letting go and walked in the direction of the front entrance.

* * *

Darcy quietly slipped into the still bustling bar area of the Pearl. It was late, but in establishments like the Pearl, it was not uncommon to see a few patrons still awake, even if it was just barely. She had been on another job for Slim, but this one turned out to be a set up. What should have been an easy job, ended up being a trap to catch the now notorious 'Dark Wolf' as she was apparently known by those whom she had robbed. Luckily her well honed instincts had kicked in just in time and she managed to escape, but she still had to hide for a long time before the guards finally gave up the chase.

While she waited for things to die down, so that she could make her escape, her thoughts had returned to Alistair and the things that Harris had told her the previous night. Up till now, Darcy had refused to let herself feel anything but companionship for Alistair. Any feelings that even hinted at something more was immediately pushed aside, but it had become increasingly harder to ignore them over time. In the past few nights that they had been each other's company whilst doing jobs for Slim, these feelings had become even more difficult to ignore.

He had a way of making her forget that she was mourning the death of her family. He made her feel like she could conquer the Blight singlehandedly. He made her feel wanted; needed, not because she was a capable fighter, not because she needed to do someone a favour and not because she was one of only two Grey Wardens left. No, he made her feel wanted simply because she was Darcy.

And, of course he was rather handsome. Since he started wearing leather armour for their nightly expeditions, she had become more aware of his body. The many hours of training with sword and shield had sculpted his body to perfection, from his broad shoulders and strong arms to his trim waist and muscular legs. Darcy had to stop herself from staring at him and wondering what it would feel like to be held in his arms.

She shook her head and reprimanded herself. It was no use daydreaming like that. She knew it could never work. Despite what Harris had said, it was better if she didn't allow herself to have feelings for Alistair. She reached the bottom of the stairs and quietly made her way up them towards her sleeping quarters. A noise coming from inside her room, made her pause. The dagger made a quiet, rasping sound as it effortlessly slid from its sheath at her thigh.

Slowly she reached for the door handle and twisted it open as quietly as she could. She let the door swing open a tiny fraction before she peered into the room. A pair of muscular male legs and booted feet came into view. Darcy pushed the door open a little more and she could see that the man was sitting on a chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. Grasping the dagger firmly she flung the door wide open and leapt into the room.

The dagger stopped short of Alistair's throat who sat, frozen in the chair and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes. Darcy was the first to recover and she quickly sheathed the lethal looking dagger.

"Alistair, what in the Maker's name do you think you are doing? I could have killed you!" Darcy exclaimed angrily.

Alistair finally regained the use of his body and got up from the chair. He was still shaking with shock, but he managed to keep his voice steady when he spoke.

"Darcy, I'm sorry. I needed to speak to you and I waited outside your door for a while, but then, when you didn't turn up, I thought I'd wait in your room instead. You know, because it is more comfortable sitting in a chair." Alistair could kick himself for sounding like a scolded child, but he couldn't help it. Being on the other side of Darcy's sharp and lethal looking dagger was a frightening experience.

Darcy ran her hands across her face and went to sit on the edge of the bed in order to calm down.

"How long have you been waiting for me?"

"I think it's been three hours," Alistair said.

"You know you could have slipped a note under the door or something," Darcy said, "You didn't have to wait for me."

He shrugged, "I don't mind waiting for you. I just really needed to talk to you." He gave her a shy smile.

"What was it you needed to talk to me about?" Darcy asked as she unlaced her boots and slid them off with a sigh.

She stood up and walked behind the privacy screen so that she could strip off her leather armour and change into a clean linen shift and trousers.

"I uh..." Alistair's mouth went dry when he realised that he could see Darcy's shadow perfectly outlined on the privacy screen. He watched as she undid the many buttons and clasps of her leather jerkin and lifted it over her head.

"Uhm... I needed to, well someone I spoke to uh..."

He watched, transfixed as she slowly slid the leather trousers down her shapely legs and stepped out of them. Her hand appeared at the top of the privacy screen and grabbed the shift and trousers that was hanging over it. Hopelessly lost to the movement of her body he could do nothing but watch as her shapely legs disappeared into the trousers and her perfectly rounded breasts were swallowed up by the shift. He blinked and looked up at her face just as she stepped out from behind the screen and move towards the table with the wash basin and jug. She reached up and loosened her hair from the customary braid she usually wore it in before pouring some water into the basin and splashing some over her face.

The muscles in Alistair's stomach tightened involuntarily as he watched a small drop of water slowly travel over her cheek and down her neck only to disappear under the shift. Maker, how he wished he could be that drop of water!

"Alistair?" The sound of her voice intruded on his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah?" He mentally rolled his eyes at himself for sounding like a complete dolt.

A smile plucked at the corner of Darcy's lips; he seemed distracted tonight.

"You were saying that you needed to talk to me," she reminded him gently.

"Yes, I did need to talk to you," Alistair said with more bravado than he felt.

Darcy moved to perch on the edge of the bed again, "Well, here I am, what did you need to tell me?"

This was it, he thought nervously. He needed to get through to her and make her understand that he wanted her, no, needed her. And, yes, he needed to make her see that he loved her. He had never experienced love before, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her.

"Well, the thing is..." he began and then paused. This was much harder than he thought. He'd had it all planned out perfectly in his head and now he had forgotten everything he wanted to say.

"Go on," Darcy encouraged gently.

"The thing is, that I lied to you when I told you that I was happy to just be your friend."

"Alistair -"

"_No_, please listen, this is important. I can't just be your friend, I want more. I want you, Darcy. I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."

He paused and looked into her silvery eyes. They were unreadable as ever and he prayed with all his might that he was getting through to her somehow.

"Alistair, you are in love with an illusion. I am not a good person, you deserve so much more. How long will it be before you wake up to reality and realise that I've been right all along? I am a killer, a thief and many more things and one day soon your eyes will open and see me for what I am and that is something I couldn't bear. Don't you see, Alistair," Darcy was desperate for him to see the truth and she looked at him pleadingly, "I cannot allow myself to have feelings for you, because it will break me if you ever left!"

Alistair took one step closer to her and bent down so that his face was mere inches from her own. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him.

"It is not an illusion I fell in love with, Darcy. You forget that I knew you as a child, before you became what you are now. I don't care that you kill or steal or whatever else it is that you don't want to tell me about, because I've loved you from the moment you gave Nathanial Howe a bloody nose for bullying me."

Darcy shook her head, refusing to acknowledge what he was saying. "You knew me for the whole of two weeks, twelve years ago."

Alistair nodded and firmly grasped her head between his hands so that she could not turn her head away, "Yes, and it was enough. It was enough to make me realise that I want to spend every morning, every noon and every night by your side. I want to be the one you smile at and the one you kiss. I want to be able to smell your hair, taste your skin and feel your warm breath on my body. I want you, Darcy, because I love you."

She couldn't speak, she didn't want to. The part of her that has been fighting against her feelings for Alistair was suddenly overshadowed by the sheer force of them. She wanted to tell him no, but she couldn't, because she wanted him too.

Alistair took her silence as acceptance and he gently touched her lips with his own in a feather light kiss.

* * *

He continued to gently brush his lips across her own, almost as if he was testing her reaction. When she did not protest, Alistair applied more pressure. Her lips were so soft and hot; making his own lips feel like they were burning with an exquisite fire. Feeling brave, he gently brushed his tongue over her lips and felt a rush of pleasure when she parted them for him. He took full advantage of her open mouth and gently probed the inner lining of her lips with his tongue, before deepening the kiss and enticing a small moan from her throat.

Alistair was not at all sure of what he was supposed to be doing, but his body seemed to respond of its own accord and if the soft moaning sounds she was making was any indication, then he was not doing so badly. Moving his hands into her satin tresses he sank his fingers into their soft warmth while his mouth travelled down to the sensitive skin of her throat. His mouth wandered lower still until it lingered over the pulse that throbbed in the little hollow at the base of her neck.

Darcy was on fire, or that was what it felt like to her. His fingers left a trail of searing heat in their wake as they brushed over her skin. Her body trembled and responded to his every move. She felt his strong arms tighten around her, drawing her closer against the hard planes of his body. She brushed her lips against the slight roughness of his face and her body surged with the liquid heat of desire.

Darcy's nimble fingers ran down the length of his body and found the buttons that kept his shirt closed. She quickly unbuttoned them and sighed with pleasure when her hands made contact with the smooth planes of his chest.

Alistair shuddered under her touch and hungrily sought out the moist warmth of her mouth once more. His hands moved in under her shift and his fingers explored the satin softness of her stomach. He moved his hands higher and his thumbs gently brushed the undersides of her breasts. Darcy moaned into his mouth and pushed her body closer to his, encouraging his touch.

Grasping hold of the shift, he lifted it up and over her head. He nearly came undone when her soft breasts pressed against his own naked skin. He moaned softly and lay her down on top of the bed before slowly taking one of the perfectly formed mounds into his hand. He continued to kiss her as he gently rubbed his thumb over the nipple. Darcy's hips bucked under him in response to his soft caress and he groaned at the sweet torture it provoked in him.

Alistair's mouth trailed hot kisses down her neck and lower still until his mouth enveloped the other nipple. Darcy moaned again and ran her fingers through his tousled hair. A delicious tension built at the base of her stomach and she suddenly became impatient with the amount of cloth that separated their lower bodies. Reaching down, she managed to pull the string that held his trousers in place and slipped her hand inside.

Alistair hissed and bucked his hips against her hand. If he didn't get a hold of his control he was going to lose it and soon. He trailed more kisses down the length of her body and stopped when they came to the top of her linen trousers. He took hold of the trousers on either side of her hips and pulled them down all the way and sucked in a shaky breath when he looked upon her fully naked body.

He took in every part of her and committed every detail to memory. The pink scar on her left shoulder that was still healing, her beautifully rounded breasts that seemed to be a perfect fit for his hands. His eyes trailed over the deep curves of her waist and spied a small mole on her right hip. Her legs were shapely and well toned and he couldn't wait to feel them wrapped around his body. Finally his eyes rested on the small mound of curls that lay at the juncture between her legs. He groaned at the sight and quickly removed his own trousers before covering her body with his own.

His hand trailed down to explore that hidden place of her body. It was so moist and hot and he clung desperately to his control. At first he was a little uncertain of what to do, but Darcy's hand moved to cover his and helped him to find the little bundle of nerves. Her hand moved with his until he had established a good rhythm, before running her hand up his arm and over the rigid muscles of his back.

The tension in her abdomen was spreading through her body and she could feel it winding tighter and tighter with Alistair's every caress. She moaned and bucked her hips in time with his hand and just before she was about to fall over the edge of her passion, she reached for him and guided him to the entrance of her body. He looked at her for confirmation and when she nodded, he slowly pushed himself into her.

He groaned loudly as her moist warmth engulfed him and started rocking his hips into her. The storm of their passion lifted them higher and higher and they soared as one, no longer caring about anything else, existing solely for each other and the pleasure of their joining.

Darcy's nails dug into Alistair's back as their pleasure burst around them in a moment of brilliant beauty before slowly subsiding and leaving the lovers spent, but content in each other's arms.

* * *

A loud knock on his cabin door interrupted his thoughts. Sighing he got up from the cot that had been his bed for the past two weeks at sea and opened the door. A burly sailor glowered at him on the other side.

"Get yer stuff together, we'll be docking in Denerim Harbour within the next hour."

He thanked the man and shut the door again. Excitement was building in the pit of his stomach. He had finally arrived at his destination. It would not take long for him to track down his targets. Two Grey Wardens travelling up and down the country could not be that difficult to find.

A slow smile spread across his mouth as he meticulously began packing all his belongings into his travel pack. Just one more target and then he would finally be done...

* * *

**P.S. If you need clarification on some of the Scottish terms used, pm me and I will be happy to tell you. **


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